


One Petal, Two

by Terias



Category: DARLING In The FRANXX (Anime), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Aizawa Shouta loves cats, Aizawa is a monster fucker, Alien sexual anatomy, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst, Dehumanization, Everyone is a designer baby, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Past minor character death, Puppetmaster Nedzu, Queerify the Darling in the Franxx, Toshi has PTSD, Toshi is sick but he gets better, erasermight, extreme docking, former lab experiments, part-Klaxosaur!Toshi, self-depersonalization
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-07-01 01:30:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15763839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terias/pseuds/Terias
Summary: Eighth hasn't been well enough to pilot in months, not since Seventh and her substitute Stamen died in battle.Meanwhile, FRANXX Stamen 042 has disobeyed orders for the last time and has been sent back to the Garden like a common De-Select for proper treatment.The new director of the Garden facility has other plans for them.(A Darling in the FRANXX erasermight AU)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BubbleGuppy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubbleGuppy/gifts).



> This work is solely the fault of BubbleGuppy.
> 
> I could not continue to write this without her constant help with worldbuilding and plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited a few details here and there for clarification, all thanks to PinetreeVillain's beautiful [art](https://cancerousvillain.tumblr.com/post/181046028035/im-so-sorry-disclaimer-this-is-the-worst-anime)!

The pristine white walls of the Garden were oppressive to the tightly wound instinct nestled under Eighth’s breastbone. Sometimes the Pistil would be unable to breathe, until it pressed its fingers against the clear walls separating it from the blowing white outside. Outside was cold and unsafe. Sometimes Eighth would catch sight of itself in the shine of the clear wall, how different it looked from the other Pistils. It grabbed one of the long bangs, kinked at the end like tiny, ill-formed hands and stared.

Sharp-tipped, short horns protruded from Eighth’s forehead and another longer pair right behind it. Above each ear sat a broken set barely seen through the pale blond poof of its hair. Glowing blue irises, appearing brighter in the black of its eyes, made Eighth a frightening sight. Before the accident, before the fight that stole strength and agility, it thought it was strong, invincible. Beautiful, as long as the horns were covered, hidden from view. Now it was all Eighth could do to stop from breaking the clear wall with a fist as senseless water filled its hollow eyes.

Seventh, its Stamen, had been dead for some time now, and _Sunflower,_ the FRANXX they had piloted together, had nearly succumbed too. Seventh’s substitution, Nighteye, had synced almost perfectly with Eighth in its salvaged _Sunflower_. But Eighth was not fully healed, would never be cured, from that previous battle that had taken Seventh. Despite Nighteye’s protests, their commanding officers sent them out believing they would manage a miracle. They did, but at a steep cost.

Eighth’s newest Stamen perished when he chose to eject Eighth and self-destructed _Sunflower_ within the globular arms of the behemoth, Gutenberg-class Klaxosaur.

The Pistil was a curse. The tears Eighth wiped from its face were a faint blue color. It gripped pale, bluish fingers over them.

Hours ago, the Garden’s doctors brought Eighth a Ninth to replace Seventh. The paracapacity had failed, despite those white-robed sterile Ones’ assurances that it would not.

With bright shining green eyes, Ninth was so young. Too young to be piloting already. Eighth hadn’t liked it but had attempted anyway at the doctors’ insistence. There was no sync between them; both connections stayed stubbornly low.

Utterly distraught at failure, Ninth had cried and had been forcibly removed from the pilot’s seat by a veiled staff member.

“ _Too young despite his excellent paracapacity with the simulator_ ,” Eighth had heard in passing, the easy mutter coming from the doctor wearing the strange mask, as they spoke to the other wearing the same, _“Seventh died too soon.”_

_“I hope the 13 Experiment has more stable results. The 0-Series is too volatile for un-inoculated Stamens.”_

An ache blossomed in Eighth’s side, the old injury it received at the frontlines, fighting against fearsome Klaxosaurs at the cost of its Stamens. Clutching the throbbing side, Eighth forced the tickle in the back of its throat down with a hard swallow. Weakness whispered in the back of Eighth’s mind. Despite holding its breath, a knobby-fingered, blue-tinged hand, with fingernails dyed as black as its sclera, clamped over its mouth. Blue streamed forth on each unwanted cough, staining its hand.

Eighth was dying, despite all the painful surgeries with its attempted organ transplants. Eighth’s physiology was too different, too _unique_ , from the others. Nothing the Garden staff did healed. Eighth had overheard that the excruciating, yellow serum infusions it received every other week was only preventing the inevitable. Eighth just wanted to be useful, to protect what remained of humanity with its own two hands and the power of a FRANXX.

The doctors knew this and kept Eighth on standby at the Garden, knowing it was rarely ever attacked.

The blue-horned Pistil hissed out at the sight of the white, skin-tight jumpsuit covered in blue and the same-color drops splattered on the ground. Not for the first time did Eighth wonder if it would be better for all if it ran into the wilderness to freeze to death.

The moment Eighth heard the door slide open, the Pistil went rigid and blank. Would more blood be drawn for ever-increasing tests?

“I knew you would be here, Toshinori,” an unfamiliar voice squeaked.

Startled at the sound of that name, the name a widely smiling Seventh had given Eighth, the Pistil turned, nearly slipping on the blood it’d left on the floor.

Several paces away, a strange creature wearing doctor’s robes stood at knee-level in front of Eighth. Short, white hair covered the entirety of almost all parts of their body, conicular snout ending in a twitching hairless, black nose. They waved their arms through the air, soft black eyes unerringly trained on Eighth’s own. “My name is Nedzu, and I’m your new Keeper—though please don’t call me that. I think the term dehumanizes you.” Keeper Nedzu wiggled their paws at it, at _him_. “You’re probably wondering what I am? Am I a bear? A mouse? A cat? Who knows!”

Eighth blinked in confusion and tilted his head.

“Oh,” the Keeper uttered, lips pulled down slightly, “They’ve not educated you on the fauna from our planet’s past, I see. That’s a pity.” The creature nodded and hopped onto the plush couch. “Yes, their narrow thinking is what led them to this mess to start off with. Come! Sit with me, Toshinori.”

“You’re…” After countless days, _weeks,_ of nonverbal communication Eighth’s voice was rough. “…not scared of me?”

Keeper Nedzu clapped their paws together and laughed with delight. “I’m a hyper-intelligent being created largely from an amalgam of species thought of as ‘animal’, not human. Shouldn’t _you_ be scared of _me_?”

“No. Your eyes are too warm.” Eighth didn’t sit. The white of the couch would get stained blue if touched by his cursed body.

“It’s the same for you,” Keeper Nedzu calmly stated. “Do you need pain medicine?”

“Do I?”

“You’re holding your side,” the creature’s tone was gentle, and so soft.

Water welled in Eighth’s eyes as he forced his hand down.

“No, Toshinori. That’s not what I meant.”

He flinched and looked away as more stinging water dripped down his face. He didn’t want to hear that name anymore. It made him _feel_ too much. He wanted to stay distant.

The sound of the Keeper leaving the couch drew Eighth’s gaze up. There was a thin tail sticking out from under the robes while the creature quickly set a chair before the automated dispenser set in the wall. Before long, they had two cups of something steaming, one in a paw and the other with the tail, which was held aloft as they carefully stepped off the stool. “Tea?”

Being given something, anything, by Garden staff had certain protocols, and so Eighth intoned, “I graciously accept.” Medicine was deposited in the upraised palm. He blinked at the creature as the cup, filled with a milky liquid, was then pressed into the other hand.

“The fools in charge of your care don’t understand anything, do they? They’ve lived so long they barely understand grief, despite the excessive amount of knowledge on the psychology of their pre-intervention days.” Their tail brought the greenish, mostly clear tea forward, and the Keeper gripped the bottom of the cup to take a sip of their own. “I suppose it’s painful to remember how imperfect they were then.”

The Pistil stared down at his hand before taking the medicine and swallowing the lukewarm, semi-sweet liquid down with them. This was… He gulped it down, hungry for the longing, despite the sharp pains the memories brought him.  “H-how did you know…?”

“This was Shimura’s preferred dispenser mix for you, wasn’t it? Computers don’t forget.”

A foul noise wrenched from his throat as he pressed his eyes shut. “You…” The empty cup was taken from his trembling fingers only a moment before his knees wobbled too hard to keep him upright. He sat down bonelessly, as unpleasant sobs tore from his throat, coming up with more blood. “You’ll remember her for me? And him too?” His nose dripped with snot, his vision shot with an azure haze, while more of the viscous blue dribbled down his chin.

“I’ll do you one better, Toshinori.” A clear rectangular shape was pressed into his messy palms. With a tap, images began to play.

_“Ah! Well, Toshi, I made this for you in case something happens to me!”_

Shimura’s face was bright with the smile Eighth had only half-remembered. He stared, hands clutched around the screen _._

_“I hope nothing ever does, but I know the stats. There were six others before us, right? So, please don’t blame yourself.” She clapped her hands together, her smile never faltering. “You tried your hardest!! You always do. I want you to know that the most important thing is to remember why we’re fighting, and to keep smiling so that the other FRANXX in our joint missions won’t lose faith in our battles!” She pressed two fingers to the sides of her face. “Keep smiling!” Dropping her hands down, her eyes sharpened even with her smile. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to be with you always. Please give my best regards to your next Stamen, okay? Fight on! I believe in you!!”_

The video ended, and Toshi was left breathless and stunned.

“Your last Keeper thought this would be damaging to you, but I think differently,” Keeper Nedzu said, tutting, and placed a paw on Toshi’s shoulder. “Nighteye was your co-pilot for only a week before his heroic death. Based off his profile and personal effects, he deeply admired you and your principles. He made an album of images and short recordings in that short time he had with you. I’ll let you peruse them later in the Shrine of Remembrance we’ll set up for the both of them. First, let’s get you cleaned up, mm?”

Toshi the Eighth stood after great effort, but minimal pain. His face was hot at the unpresentable state he was in. He tried a small smile. “I’m sorry for the mess, Keeper.”

“Ah-ah. Is that my name?”

“…Apologies, Mr. Nedzu.”

“Come, come. I have much to show you and a new daily regimen to follow!” The hairy creature gestured with a paw. “I think you’ll like the changes! Additionally, this regimen, if followed properly, should bring you back to optimal health so you can rejoin rotation.”

“But… Ninth is too young.” Toshi followed the creature out of what had been his room for all these months at the Garden. He was jittery at the prospect of going somewhere other than the Labs.

“Oh, don’t worry about that! I want you to focus on getting better, yes?”

“But they said…”

“Never mind what they said! None of them have any idea what they’re doing anyway, and I have a hunch that they’ve approached it the wrong way.”

Toshi’s eyes looked up and down the halls as they entered a different part of the building than where he was normally allowed. He wasn’t going to be decommissioned, was he? Children who took the serum rarely survived, and their bodies were removed to _somewhere_ so…

“Will you trust me, Toshinori?” Keeper Nedzu said as a door to a new room opened. This one had greenery sitting in pots everywhere and warm hanging lights reminding Toshi of the magma energy the pilots protected.

Immediately at ease, Eighth stepped in with curiosity alighting his eyes. There was a fountain in the center where water gurgled down rocks, splashing into the large basin. There were strange sounds emanating from the walls, humming and buzzing interspersed with bright chirps. The temperature itself felt warmer and the air thicker somehow. “This is my room?”

“Rooms.” Keeper Nedzu pointed to the adjacent doors. “There’s a viewing deck that serves as your eatery. Then there’s the shower and toilet facility adjacent to your dressing room, and of course your sleep room. I’ve spent a lot of time on the decorative elements and general ambience, so I hope you enjoy my efforts! But, if you don’t, please let me know. I installed a commlink in your sleep room. You need only tap the screen to contact me.”

“Oh…” This was very new. He couldn’t stop gaping at the greenery. “What about training?”

“Your training quarters and health lab are separate and down the hall. You’ll even be able to mingle with the other Children during social gathering hours and during drills.”

“Mingle?”

Keeper Nedzu held his paws together with a gleam in his black eyes. “Why, yes. It’s important that you don’t remain so isolated. And don’t try covering up your horns, mm?”

Toshi didn’t understand the point of _mingling_ if he was expected to go looking like a monster. “Is this how I will find a replacement Stamen? By mingling?”

“No, this is how you’ll find _friends_. That is, people who have similar interests to you and enjoy your company.”

With a frown, Eighth stared down at the hairy Keeper with strange ideas. “Will… doing so protect the Garden?”

“Indirectly, yes! So be sure to keep an open mind, mm?”

“Yes, sir.” The Pistil bowed, noticing that Keeper was on his way out.

Turning at the precipice of the exit from Toshi’s rooms, the creature paused. “You’ll have six hours to acclimate yourself to your new environment. Please be presentable at the end of that time limit. I’ll have your new regimen in hand.”

Toshi nodded with a murmured polite agreement, and the door whooshed shut behind his new Keeper.

* * *

Stepping off the Transport Platform into the dense cold, Series Number FP40-T3NL-042 clutched his bag with all his worldly possessions. He was wrapped snugly in a regular-issue winter coat with thick gloves. After taking a moment to look at the imposing domed white building of the Garden’s Nursery which he had been ordered to check-in at, he ducked his head down and moved forward. He’d spent enough time during the trip thinking of the treatment he’d been ordered to undergo for disobeying command mid-battle for the fifth time.

He was a much older Parasite, so he knew what the treatments did, having undergone them before; they stole troublesome memories away, ones that led to disobedience.

Unfortunately for him, they would have to wipe his brain clean before he stopped. It was only logical to countermand a poorly thought out command by those retired Parasites who comfortably sat within the relative safety of a Plantation. After awhile, it was only logical that they lost their edge.

Despite the warm layers, his joints creaked. Initially, when he hit his eighteenth cycle, he was constantly pressed to retire before he died in battle. However, retirement was illogical when barely graduated recruits were expected to take out ever-intelligent Klaxosaurs, especially if they have such poor tacticians calling the shots from the command center. Besides, he’d heard the Garden had hit another Drought this cycle.

There would be no new crops of graduates for another three cycles.

He wondered how Papa’s scientists had blundered so badly. From a technical standpoint, they were already so short-staffed on Plantation Protection Squads due to the forward push directed by APE to those on the frontline.

He wondered if the people at fault for the poor crop were pushed out yet. Papa was a patient one, considering that he allowed such an active Parasite to continue into old age, but that patience could only be tested so far.

Additionally, losing the _All Might,_ that is, the _Sunflower_ FRANXX had been a huge blow to their efforts in the war. At least the 9’s Platoon was still kicking. _But for how much longer?_ The tactical part of his mind murmured, while he stripped off the coat and gloves. He was too tactile to go without the dark gray scarf.

“042, we’ve been expecting you,” came the flat tone from the masked, white-robed receptionist. When he was younger, he hadn’t realized that even normal humans had roles like the Parasites There were so many things that the staff at the Garden never taught Parasites. He wondered what knowledge they deemed insufficient for a Parasite to steal away this time. “Please have a seat in the receiving room. The new director, Mr. Nedzu, wishes to speak with you."

Hesitating when he saw a tag on the receptionist’s chest that could be read as ‘Grace’ or ‘Elegant’ with ‘Suguri’ written beneath, he nodded and turned down the long vacant hall.

Perhaps that was the receptionist’s codename and nickname? How peculiar. The Garden staff were all faceless, nameless entities before… His eyes just missed an impossibly tall figure in a bright red and blue uniform, whose honey-blonde curly hair was tipped with a crown of dark horns.

He blinked, curiosity immediately piqued by the brief image of another Parasite. The uniform had been unmistakable

 _A new series, perhaps?_ He mused as he turned into the open receiving room. He nearly stopped short as it had undergone an exceptional makeover. He glanced back at the bare, utilitarian hallway behind him, just to check that he wasn’t seeing things.

Stepping inside, the door whooshed shut behind him, but without the click of a lock engaging. He frowned at the next change. It was standard protocol to keep Parasites contained. By the nature of their jobs, they were radiation hazards to normal humans, after all. It was why the staff had to wear hazmat suits in their presence.

Not that Parasites were informed of this at any time during their raising at the Garden…

Setting his black bag and winter gear on the floor, he leaned against the pastel-patterned wall and waited. The lights were far less harsh than he remembered, and water gurgled from a tiny fountain sat on the squat wooden table, which was possibly an antique... and laced with radiation. Very unusual and possibly an indicator of the eccentricities of the new director.

The door whooshed open to reveal a… cat? No, the snout was wrong as were the paws. He stared in growing confusion. Had the scientists been desperate enough to raise extinct animals too?

“Hello, Shouta,” an alarmed shudder ran through his frame at the nasal words from the very short, two-legged animal, “My name is Director Nedzu. But I’ll be your new Keeper until you’ve been properly matched with a Pistil.” The white-furred Director tilted its head, mouse ears flicking. “At ease, Shouta.”

He hadn’t even realized he’d fallen into the proper stance towards a superior. His chest was tight. “Sir, my codename is—”

“As your Keeper, I’m very aware of that.” The cat-bear-mouse chuckled.

“Of course, sir.” _Would they steal that from me? My name? My identity?_ He’d taken great pains to erase all trace of it, even signing to his retired Pistil to never call him that again over their sparse vidcomms, and now… would he even be the same?

Something must have come across his expressionless face, despite always being called ‘cold’ and ‘blank-faced’, because Director Nedzu, no, Keeper Nedzu asked after his status. Was this the power of animal instinct?

“I have minimal contusions from the last battle and am ready to obliterate Klaxosaurs at any time.”

“Of that I am assured.” The Director of the Garden turned its snout pointedly towards the chair next to him. “I see you’ve ignored the seat. Was it not to your liking perhaps?”

“I saw no point in sitting when this room is a temporary placement for me.”

Pressing its paws together, Keeper Nedzu’s beady black eyes surveyed him, twitching its whiskered-snout curiously. “The original purpose of your transfer here has been retracted. I have reassigned you as the Training Simulator Guidance Instructor of Creche 1-A. The Instructor’s Manuals are already waiting on the PADD in your quarters.”

His body jolted as if he’d been struck by the news. “Sir, retired Parasites are only given Command Positions.”

“I am aware of APE’s traditions, 042. Now, if you would, please refer to me with he/him pronouns and desist in thinking of me as an ‘it’. I do have feelings too.” The tiny, furred lips pulled down into a frown and would’ve been hidden by its— _his_ snout if the director hadn’t swiveled his head to the side.

“I’m very sorry, sir.” The Parasite bowed deeply towards the director, emotions at war within his brain. Suspicion came to the forefront as a thought swelled above the chaos. Was this all part of an elaborate test? “I’m… just surprised to see one such as you.”

“Yes, I was a mistake of genetic manipulation. A failure, but we make do with what we have, no?” Keeper Nedzu clapped his paws together. “Let me show you your quarters. It has all the amenities a Parasite Instructor would need.”

Gathering his meager possessions to follow his Keeper, he couldn’t help tracking how far away from the entrance his rooms were. They passed through a red ‘No Entrance’ security ring not long after, which allowed them through with a flash of green, and clearly delineated between Parasite containment and the rest of the Garden.

Gone were the long windows of studious would-be Parasites looking over their PADDs even as they were being poked and prodded by their Keepers. Instead, the rooms were brightly lit and the Parasites were applying colors with brushes on rectangular gray-white sheets. Paper? Or was it reusable, flexible stone? And the Keepers weren’t wearing haz-mat suits… which meant they were retired Parasites?

The old Stamen was puzzled to say the least. Then the two passed the labs where the scientists in faceless masks and hazmat suits poked and prodded, but they were obviously communicating to the young Parasites because the young ones were readily responding. There was even another white-robed adult without the telltale mask noting things down in her PADD. Maybe another retired Parasite, a scientist-in-training?

Maybe none of this was a test at all. He blinked down at the small stature of his waddling Keeper. Soon they stopped not far from where he knew that the training simulator room was.

After a press of his paw, the door whooshed open to the Instructor quarters.

The old Parasite squinted at the warm lighting and blinked at the greenery. He stared down at Keeper Nedzu.

“It’s always seemed _illogical_ to me that such valuable resources would go to waste for those ill-suited to such roles, wouldn’t you agree, Instructor Shouta?” The white-furred director gestured to the room, leading him inside. “Due to limited space, this is a suite with a shared eatery and toilet facilities. Your sleeping room and dressing room are through there, where you’ll find the PADD I was talking about earlier on a provided desk. You have three days before you’ll be expected to begin instruction.”

He hesitated. “You said this was a shared space?”

“A gravely injured Parasite is recuperating here, has been for the past year and a half. He was reassigned to the Garden’s Protection Squad.”

“But the Garden—”

“I am aware that he is its sole protector at the moment.”

He felt his face heat, never having been reprimanded for what should’ve been a string of obvious deductions if he simply calmed enough to think it through.

“His name is Toshi, and I’m sure you’ll get along well.” The smirking Keeper waddled to the door.

“But I don’t know his—” Whoosh. “Codename.”

At this moment, he knew what his Keeper was doing. Whoever this Pistil was must be important enough to warrant so much attention and resources. His first guess was of the 9’s, because he hadn’t heard of 002 being taken out of active duty. He knew far less about the 9’s though…

He frowned. It was at times like these that he wished he hadn’t made his skillset as useful and versatile as he had. He had never been placed at a position for more than six months at a time, He was the one who was called in when Sync rates failed for a third of a platoon despite partnerswaps, and that could be extremely deadly for the entire platoon.

Breathing in the humidified air, he brushed past large palm leaves on his way to his room. Hopefully, his vidcomm access wasn’t restricted.

Palming the handscan attached to the wall next to his door, the door opened and he entered. The lights flickered on as soon as the motion detectors registered his movement and he was grateful to whoever had programmed them because it was at a soothing dimness that he preferred for his over-tired, dry eyes. Compared to the receiving room and the shared atrium, his sleeping room was spartan with very little decoration distracting his eyes.

There was a tasteful artist’s rendition of a black cat on the wall with bright green eyes. He could see the brushwork it had taken and how thick the oil paint had to have been to layer it. He liked it. Beyond it was the dressing receptacle for his under-jumpsuit and Stamen suit.

He opened the closet, expecting a line of formal wear hanging up. The shelf above the rack held clean, black linens for the bed and below revealed soft, black onesies with hoods. Sleepwear? He pulled one off a hangar and realized the hood had cat ears attached to it. He blushed and hung it back up. Was this some kind of joke? Well, he had packed his two sets of formal wear so that would have to suffice. He quickly hung up his winter gear and did the same for said wrinkled black formal wear with its beret and ridiculous half-cape  once he pulled it out of his bag.

There was a laundry chute in the wall next to the bed, which he thought was overlarge for his needs. Then there was the desk Director Nedzu had spoken about with the aforementioned PADD. It was black and when he turned it on it went ‘Nyaaaa?’ instead of the usual boot-up noise.

His face went red again. Exactly how long had it taken his new Keeper to discover his love for this extinct species?

 _No matter_ , he thought as he pointedly ignored the background of a photograph. There was a pile of various adolescent cats all cuddling. The normal pointer was even in the shape of a cat’s pawprint. He forced himself to open the Instructor’s Manual on the homescreen instead of the folder entitled, Cat Photos. It was so tempting though.

Fifteen minutes later, he rubbed his eyes and pushed back. He needed to check out the bathroom and eatery. The dispenser better have a function for coffee or he and his suitemate were going to have a bad time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual thank you BubbleGuppy for beta-ing and cheering me on. Even when things got weird.
> 
> Also, I upped the rating because of the sudden onset of smut that happened in this chapter.  
> You're welcome.

Drained from the back-and-forth trek he’d been subjected to that day, and in full uniform regalia no less, Toshi didn’t think there was a person inside the Garden facility who wasn’t plainly aware of his Klaxo-hybrid status. Of course, he didn’t mind so much only because he’d been isolated for so long. He missed the company of fellow Parasites, even if it meant it might invite scorn and fear.

However, he’d expected to work, or at least attend some meeting or function requiring the fancy dress, not to interrupt Children’s lessons and lab times. After entering yet another occupied room, he was again directed by the staff there that he needed to go to the next room over or even to one halfway across the Nursery where the newly-raised infants were playing with blocks.

The first few times this happened, Toshi had thought surely someone had made a mistake, but as the shocked stares and time dragged on, it was abundantly clear that his Keeper had wanted to parade him around. He was too tired to be irritated about it, and honestly he thought this was likely a facet of the new director’s plan to integrate him with the Garden’s potential or retired Parasites.

Instead of the usual veiled supervisors in charge of the creches, Toshi was surprised by the older Parasites in charge, retired and outside their normal Command positions. He wouldn’t have thought strangely of the missing masks until he had recognized a few from his time on the frontlines with Seventh.

Of course they didn’t recognize him, since he had been extremely shy as the Pistil of the _Sunflower_ FRANXX, and preferred to be swathed head-to-toe in conical hat and blue robes, no matter how much the outfit had made him sweat. Seventh had hated ‘the stupid thing’, and after she died he couldn’t bear to wear it any longer.

Now, all he wanted to do is go back to his rooms and pretend his condition wasn’t the cause of his current lodgings. Surely, Papa had sent him to the Garden instead of the Camp because his best doctors were stationed there and had wanted to ensure the Eighth’s survival...

Without looking through the long, one-way window into the 1-A creche he’d been pointed to by an obviously-retired, green-haired Parasite—she looked vaguely familiar the way some retired pilots often did to him—Toshi pressed his hand onto the hand scanner at the center of the door and pushed the door open.

Bright voices washed over him as the not-quite-graduated Children were on a recreation break, split into their self-made social groups.

“EIGHTH!!” A near-pilot voice cried out.

Toshi’s head jerked up and focused on the green-haired Stamen with shining green eyes. _Oh no_ , he thought softly. He managed a smile, lifting a hand in greeting. “Hello, young Ninth.”

UP0-1FA-009d ran up to Toshi with a gobsmacked expression. “You’re really here?!” The young one pulled him to sit on one of the ledges stuffed with pillows and a myriad of plush toys. “I can’t believe it! Are they giving me another chance?”

Toshi’s heart gave a wrench, and his face slackened into a frown. “I’m sorry, young Ninth. I don’t believe that they are, but I’ve not been re-assigned either.”

Wearing standard gray Children’s robes, Ninth clenched his fists to his chest, eyes watering. “Is it…” His voice wavered and grew fainter, “Is it my fault?”

“No. No. Never. I should have refused to get in the Pistil stirrups in the first place. I’m not… in the best health to be attempting synchronization.” Toshi stared at the Ninth and then looked down at his gloved hands, which hid black fingernail beds and forearms that were totally blue. “I’m deeply sorry. I’m sure you’ll find a better partner, one with whom you can spend many years on active duty with.”

“But I was perfect in the simulators!” The outburst came with tears, and Ninth hurriedly rubbed his arm over his face. “I should’ve been able to do it! That’s why I was made: to co-pilot with you.”

A sour painful feeling sat in Toshi’s chest.

“Maybe they’ve made a Tenth for you,” he lied. His last Keeper had told him that the 00 series had its funding withdrawn. Even so, he couldn’t bear to reveal that there would be no others in their series made, when those in authority had neglected to inform the Ninth of that.

Predictably, through his tears Ninth’s face shined up at him with anticipation and hope.

He took a deep breath. “Besides, I’m too old and unwell to pilot on the frontlines.” He was surprised that he hadn’t yet succumbed to Klaxo-madness like his predecessors, Sixth and Fourth had. As it was, he, at best, had ten cycles left in him. He suppressed the urge to place a hand on the shoulder of his same-series kin. “Also, I do not believe that the paracapacity failure was your doing, but mine,” he said, his tone grave.

As Ninth continued to sniffle quietly and rub at his eyes, another voice came from Toshi’s left. “Hey!! You’re the All Might’s Pistil, aren’t you??”

So, it seemed the other Children had finally noticed him, gathering closer to them. Or, perhaps, they had seen his serious expression whilst talking with Ninth and left them alone until then.

He nodded solemnly at the Child with blond spiky hair and with a black, jagged stripe through the bangs.

A spiky black-haired kid with sharp teeth and a toned body excitedly exclaimed, “We just watched a historical recording of you and Seventh in action! It was super manly!!”

Pain tore through Toshi’s chest at the mention of his previous Stamen followed by a raking sensation in his throat. Blood came up on a rough cough, his mouth covered by his hands. His eyes burned from his memory of Shimura and so did his chest. Azure dribbled down his fingers to stain the floor. Ninth was frozen with eyes like large saucers, at the evidence of the older Pistil’s poor health.

“Oh no!! Guys!! Get some water and a cloth!!” The Child, who yelled, had large brown eyes and straight brown hair that cupped the sides of her jaw. “Are you in pain? Should we get some medicine?”

Toshi couldn’t answer like this as he was desperately holding the salty-sweetness in his mouth.

“Izuku!! What do we do?”

Ninth, no, _Izuku_ was too shocked at the sight of the blue blood oozing down Toshi’s skin tight gloves.

“Idiot! Can’t you see he can’t talk right now?” A tall boy with sharp eyes and spiky dirty blond hair shoved Izuku and the girl apart, pushed the pristine white cloth under Toshi’s second cupped hand catching the dripping blood. “C’mon old man, spit it out. We won’t faint from a little blood. We’re not some two-bit Infants. Hah. Well, most of us aren’t.” The boy smirked, eyes looking pointedly towards Izuku, who hunched his body and drew his hands in looking at the ground.

“Katsuki, that’s not very nice, ribbit.”

“Tch, says the freak with the abnormal love for frogs.”

The two continued bickering, and Toshi quickly drew the damp terry cloth hand towel up and turned away as he spat out of the globular clot of blood into it. Sucking in air, he coughed a few more times into the ruined cloth, interrupting the two’s bickering.

They, along with the others, watched him as he bent forward to clean the floor. “Ah, apologies, Children.” He glanced up to see that he had drawn the attention of the rest of the Children’s group

In total, there were five pairs plus the odd one out: Izuku. Toshi felt supremely bad for him, but, once he graduated, they would probably try pairing him with someone older among the other Plantation Prunings.

Feeling as if he had intruded long enough, Toshi stood up when he saw their creche supervisor appear. The tall man was not wearing the special veil and mask that were often paired with those long robes either; he must be a former Parasite too. “This creche has been very hospitable, but I must go now, to rest.” He nodded towards their blonde-haired instructor who grinned, flashing teeth beneath his tiny moustache.

A chorus of polite ‘Get well, Eighth!’ and ‘See you!’ followed him out the door. He waved towards Ninth, who looked near to tears again, and then walked away, the door to their creche sliding shut with soft swish.

Very familiar with the layout of the facility now that he had traversed it many times going back and forth that morning, he headed straight to his suite. As soon he entered the warm, humidified atrium, he slipped off the red half cape and stood underneath one of the magma lamps. He raised his hands upward into the light’s warmth, feeling… not energized, but not exhausted as he had been.

He pulled off his stained gloves and unzipped the skintight outfit rolling it down to his hips before taking a seat in the chair under the lamp. He closed his eyes and simply enjoyed basking. It was making him comfortably warm and sleepy.

He must’ve drifted off because the next thing he knew, a strong, earthy smell in the air that hadn’t been present earlier woke him… But he hadn’t brewed coffee, hadn’t set the timer for it, hadn’t tasted the drink since Nighteye had—Toshi sat ramrod straight when he realized someone else was there.

A man dressed in black with black hair and black eyes but pale creamy skin was propped against the pillar next to him drinking coffee. A fellow Parasite, but what was he doing in Toshi’s private suites?

Feeling that he had broken social protocols by being so bare, Toshi began to tug his outfit back on. “S-sorry,” he stuttered, face flushing at the laser-locked gaze on the abnormal patterning with stacked crescent shapes in his blue-marbled peach skin. “I thought I was the only one here.”

“It’s fine; Relax. I moved in this morning.” The other took another slow sip, stepping closer as Toshi struggled in vain to get back into his bright blue outfit; there was a reason why dressing stalls with its automated process existed after all. It was impossible to get them on without help. The specialized suits were practically printed on. “May I help?” He set the cup down.

Toshi hesitated and then stood up, back facing the other and expecting hard up-tugs to draw it over his broad shoulders. Except, the man pulled it down his legs, and then left it bunched around his ankles with Toshi standing practically naked under the magma lamp. Toshi only felt self-conscious because he had been made so differently from other pilots, ancient jeers from his raising at the Garden echoing in the back of his mind.

Still partially crouched, the man gazed up at him and then suggestively towards his groin area.

Toshi frowned at him because exactly what was he suggesting? “That’s not what I meant, but thanks for your assistance.” Pulling his feet from the outfit, Toshi sighed and flopped face first into the long-backed chair. The lamp felt just as great on his shoulder blades and the back of his thighs.

“Ah.” The man straightened from his crouch, cheeks dusky as he gathered up his coffee again. “I’m 042, Stamen pilot. I’ve been assigned to the Garden Defense Force.”

Turning his head, Toshi caught the man staring at him with a blistering intensity. “I’m the only other one on that, I’m afraid.” He gestured towards his weakened, bony form, his skin amassed with pocked marks from his countless battles. “I’m not battle ready.”

“I know. The director deliberately paired us up.”

Whipping his head up, the Pistil frowned at him. “I haven’t been able to sync with anyone since my last Stamen died.”

“That’s why I was sent here. I’m an Ambi-Pilot.”

“Ambi,” Toshi mulled over the term. Like ambidextrous? “So, you can pilot in either position? That’s amazing! I haven’t heard of many pilots who could do that consistently.” A small frown crossed his features. “Why would they send a valuable asset like you here?”

042 blinked at him, “I was sent here for treatment. I ignored orders that would have destroyed the last platoon I was deployed with.” He drank from his mug again, and a strange light entered his eyes, almost like hunger.

Toshi warily watched as an eagerness stole over 042’s features.

“I have a question for you, but it’s a bit personal so don’t answer if you’re uncomfortable.”

Toshi tilted his head at him, encouraging him to continue.

“Were you ever sexual with your previous Stamens?”

Frowning, Toshi craned his head, questioningly. “Like, ah—I feel like I should know that word. Obviously, I’m male.”

“Sexual as in intimate physical contact.”

The Pistil was taken aback, blushing furiously. He closed his eyes and took a breath. "That sort of thing is forbidden... isn't it? So, no, of course I haven't..." He hoped his curiosity at the question wasn't that transparent. He had a slight frown on his face, feeling unsure about the line of conversation but incredibly relaxed under the light of the orange lamps.

The pilot scoffed. "Forbidden in name, perhaps. Which is rather curious considering it increases a pair’s paracapacity."

“I, I see." Toshi blinked at that and shifted onto his side, front still angled away. "You don't find my body... disgusting?" He held his hand up, the obvious blue fading to peach at his elbow, and twisted it, flexing his sleek fingers.

He had spent a lot of time hiding what he thought of as his deformities, his other-ness, so the openness that his Keeper had required of him had left him feeling vulnerable. His creche-mates had not been as accepting as Ninth's were; the blue of his flesh and blood and the glowing of his eyes were too similar to a Klaxosaur's.

The Pistil touched one of the six horns he had, the one of the sheared two right on the top of his skull. The flattened remainder was above his right ear and the least sensitive. “You don’t find this unsightly?”

"I find you quite interesting, actually." His potential-Stamen stepped closer and set his cup down, looking at him quietly, that fixation on him toned down some. “Would you allow me to touch you?”

Staring up at his Keeper's choice of pairing, Toshi dropped his arm down to cover the massive scar on his exposed side. "Yes? I... It won't hurt will it?"

He hummed quietly and sat next to Toshi since he hardly took up space on the broad chair. "I intend for it not to, however if it does, I expect you to inform me."

Toshi nodded. "Alright." If it meant increasing paracapacity, he was willing to try anything. It had been too long since he had last flown in a FRANXX.

The ambi-pilot reached out and drew the pads of two fingers down his shoulder and upper arm, watching his reaction, but also eyeing the curious patterning on his skin.

A shiver followed the path of those fingertips, and Toshi stretched out as goosebumps rose, body warming.

"Alright?" 042 murmured and stretched slowly out behind him before pressing his palm to his shoulder and following the same path his fingers took, carefully massaging the muscle in slow circles as he went.

"Yes," he whispered, feeling hushed. "It's pleasant." He relaxed into the mostly flat chair, head lolling against the cushion, tilting it away to keep his horns pointed away from the man lounging behind him.

Toshi felt him shift and then place both gentle palms to Toshi’s back to rub the tense muscles there. A soft noise of pleasure escaped his lips at the tender attention. "That feels really good. Should I return the favor?" Toshi carefully glanced over his shoulder, not yet attending to the swell to his groin that the gentle touching caused. The other pilot's face had relaxed, and his eyes were barely opened as he concentrated on his back.

At Toshi’s offer, the other exhaled in a quiet whuff, "I'm likely to fall asleep if you do, despite how much caffeine I've imbibed today."

Stretching out more, Toshi smiled. He felt safe here in this hushed moment. He hadn’t felt that way in ages. He reached a hand to set it on the covered hip behind him, eyes closing as he thumbed circles there. "Okay."

The longer they remained there the more an inescapable heat awakened within him as he melted into the chair under the pilot’s ministrations.

The other pilot shifted even closer, curling against him, something hard pushed against Toshi’s lower back. A hand covered Toshi's on that smaller hip.

Toshi tilted his head, curious, as the other pilot brushed his nose against the nape of the long neck, breathing in deeply.

"I expected to be interrupted by now. Our Keeper is far too permissible." 042 muttered quietly. "I hope you forgive me for taking advantage. It’s been… too long." With a slight pant, he opened his mouth and sucked gently on the bared skin of Toshi’s neck as if savoring the taste, hips canting against him.

Ah, right. They weren’t supposed to be doing this, being sexual. A full body shiver went through Toshi, feeling a deep quivering below his navel. He let out a slight whine, squirming as his face went hot. "Uh-h. That. I really like that. And I don't feel taken advantage of... though it's true that I don't know much about anything beyond piloting."

When the other man continued sucking his neck, Toshi twisted his wrist and intertwined his fingers with the other pilot, whose movements were growing slightly erratic, needier. "I'm Toshi," he whispered. "Do you have a secret name too, 042?"

When Toshi squirmed to bring him flush against his back, the other pilot moaned lowly. Toshi’s entwined fingers were gripped tighter.

"Shouta" came the gasped answer, and then teeth were lightly scraping Toshi’s over-sensitive skin.

With a loud choke, Toshi thrust back at that, and Shouta gently met him, rolling against his frantic motion.

"Shouta," Toshi repeated fervently, letting out a pant and felt slick dribble from the tip of him. His entire body was hot now, flushing with azure undertones. " _Shouta_." He rubbed back against the hardness pressed against him, stretching his neck to allow the other pilot greater access.

A deep groan escaped from the other pilot’s chest, and he left Toshi feeling cold when he suddenly pulled away.

Toshi whined, grasping for him, and agreeably rolled onto his back at Shouta’s demanding prods.

But it meant he could watch as Shouta unzipped the back of his skintight suit with its extremely revealing bulge at the groin, outline unmistakeable. Without finesse, the suit was shoved down and off of him, his hardness popping free with a bounce.

Face flushed, Toshi saw that, unlike his own mostly hairless body, the trail of curly hair went from robust belly to a thicker bush above the other man’s groin.

Breathlessly, his gaze was affixed on Shouta as the other pilot slid into his lap, their swollen, slick needs pressed together. Urgent lips latched onto Toshi’s collarbone, kissing and sucking up to his chin. Toshi nearly keened at the ardent attention. Firm hands worked over his smooth skin, kneading and massaging deeply until they drew across his belly.

Toshi allowed himself to wrap around that questing hand, slicking it.

Abruptly the other pilot pulled back and staring down in alarm at the member curled around his wrist. Feeling unabashed with the hot daze flooding his brain, Toshi rubbed it encouragingly against Shouta’s palm, which turned towards it to let it nuzzle him.

Toshi's face flamed at the absolute look of enamored confusion on Shouta's face as his senses came back to himself at the other pilot’s hushed stillness. The Pistil glanced down to see that other man's hardness was leaking something less clear and was decidedly immobile, only curved upright from the attention.

Toshi gripped the other man's thighs sat across his. "Are... Is this okay?" His bright eyes were fixated on the other pilot's expression, willing to stop if Shouta wanted it.

"Ah," Shouta looked up. "Mine, mine can't do this." He blinked a bit rapidly and swallowed thickly, tongue wetting his lips.

“Oh... Should I stop doing that?”

The other man seemed to hesitate. Before Toshi could pull away, warm lips were pressed to Toshi's while Toshi was gently stroked in an up and down movement. It was so slippery, and the pressure felt so good that Toshi groaned into the other man’s smirking mouth. Toshi's hips jerked up. What. What was Shouta doing to him? It felt _incredible_.

Chest heaving from his hot breathing, the pilot above him shifted his hips forward, guiding Toshi to wrap around his own hardness, fingers still stroking the both of them together.

Toshi whimpered and fell back, thrusting his hips against the delicious feel.

There was a heavy scent coming from Shouta now, but he didn't find it unpalatable, tilting his chin down. He observed how Shouta was squeezing himself before sliding over the both of theirs to the base.  Toshi unfurled his tip to encase the cap of Shouta's, closing it with a pulsing throb. His toes curled, the pleasure almost overwhelming, especially when the other pilot bucked into it. He let out a louder moan, legs tensing.

Shouta gave a choked surprised cry, head tilting down to watch himself disappear. "Oh. FUCK." He cried hoarsely, throwing his head back as he bucked a few last times into Toshi, and jerked several times against him with strangled gasps.

The stretch was almost unbearably rapturous as Toshi was driven into the seat. He shuddered and reality went white with release, as something streamed into him from Shouta.

When his senses returned he uncurled his groin from Shouta’s softened state, feeling practically boneless even as he tried to catch his breath with his single lung. Shouta was sagging atop him, sweat-slick and breathing hard. His hands though were like vices on Toshi’s shoulders.

Toshi clung back, not ready for him to pull away. "That was incredible. Thank you, Shouta," he said with a rough voice, nuzzling his jaw against Shouta's crown. "I feel a little dizzy, euphoric even, but it didn’t hurt." Still breathing hard, he gazed down at the other. "Can we do that again?"

Having easily caught his breath, Shouta choked and squirmed until Toshi released him. He leaned back enough to look at Toshi and then suggestively down.  "I’m already spent, but I can suck on you?"

 _Oh._ Toshi’s face flushed. "Ah. I m-meant later. But Uh-h. I should wash it first, maybe?"

“If you want."

"Mm. Can you join me in the shower? I don't want to go alone." Toshi was not sure about the fear that had gripped him, but he didn’t want Shouta to leave. What if what just happened was simply a vivid hallucination? That sounded like a nightmare.

"Sure," Shouta smirked and slowly extracted himself from Toshi's lap, letting him lead the way.

When Toshi stood, he absolutely towered over the other pilot even without the added height of the built-in foot coverings in the suit. He picked up his uniform to throw down the laundry chute.  He was awestruck at how good he felt and can’t imagine why this wonderful action had been forbidden. He led the other man to the bathing room. A warmth had settled in his chest, beating in tune to his heart. He wondered if Shouta felt it too.

Surely he did?

* * *

 

After hours studying the material on the PADD, Shouta leaned back and rubbed his dry eyes. He would forget to blink, something that other people did naturally. He thought it was a strange quirk of his genetic design, but who was he to question Papa?

He glanced at the clock, deciding he needed a break. His first morning break he had visited the fitness room to get a workout in, stretching first. Now he simply needed more coffee, the cat mug gone dry again.

Leaving his quarters, he meandered through the atrium with its burbling fountain and weakly radioactive magma lamps. If their suite was designed with their needs in mind…

The only series that required daily magma energy infusions of one type or another were those pilots created with Klaxosaur genetics, who were usually specifically partnered with hybrids from the same series.

Shouta couldn’t remember exactly what made them dangerous to unaltered human pilots, that part of his memory unusually blank, but he had always been curious about those so-called Klaxo-hybrids.

On his way back from the kitchen, he stilled. On one of the completely horizontal chairs, that could be adjusted to support a leaned-back position was the same horned Parasite he’d seen earlier on his way in, Pistil suit stripped down to his waist.

Despite his obvious ill health, this Toshi was… exquisite to look at. Exotic. The two sets of horns, one set much shorter than the other, protruding from his forehead were a dull steel-blue, but he could see black stubs peeking out from the blond hair. There was a crookedness to their height that gave him the impression that they had been lopped off with very little care. A deep blue coloring permeated across Toshi's skin in uncoordinated patches covered in segment-like patterning, like the scales of legless reptiles, though the skin was totally smooth in texture. The forearm that Shouta could see looked as if it had been dipped in blue paint. The dozing Pistil was enthralling to look at.

He drank from his cooling black coffee as sudden lust pooled inside of him.

Well, that could either be troublesome or useful.

Then the handsome pilot woke up, though it was a slow process, looking into those mesmerizing eyes before jerking awake at his inappropriate state of dress.

Shouta was shameless and his subsequent actions blatantly expressed that, but he was unembarrassed and while he knew he had sex in the past, he could remember nothing of the personal details, that having been deemed unnecessary and wiped from his mind.

They still hadn't been interrupted by the crafty Keeper Nedzu. Was he really going to be allowed to seduce this sweet, naive one?

His touches grew more fervent and he felt half-mad, consumed by the desire burning inside of him, to explore, to possess Toshi, knowing nothing else about him besides his genuine appreciation for Shouta’s touch.

Shouta felt a kindred spirit in the Pistil, loneliness and awe gazing up at him with half-lidded eyes. They were impassioned by each other, craving the skin contact, as they crested together.

Of course there had been a surprise in that. Toshi’s biology was part-alien, so it made sense that certain parts of him would be more monstrous from other parts, but Shouta was completely captivated by the differences, not feeling even a little horrified by them. In fact, it had spurned him on once his surprise had faded. Only for yet another treat to take its place and leave him breathless after a mind blowing orgasm from the sucking warmth that had encased his head.

Yes, he had high hopes for their partnership especially after that.

Now showered, Shouta stared up at the ceiling of the Pistil’s room, easily fitting against his side in the sizeable bed. His vision blurred for a moment, and his body suddenly shivered from cold despite knowing that the room was perfectly warm.

Raising a shaking hand to his forehead, Shouta thought he might be coming down with something. Well, he’d be fine after he slept it off. He rolled onto his side, nuzzled into the warm chest next to him, rising on each slow inhale, and fell into a deep sleep.

After what felt like a long time, he was lightly shaken awake by a gloved hand, which was so large it encased his shoulder. Toshi had the biggest hands he had ever seen.

“There’s food in the eatery for us. Our Keeper said we’re scheduled to ride together in the _Heliotrope_ ,” the Pistil explained, backing away from him as he sat up, feeling groggier than he could remember.

He grunted standing up on the cold floor, his bare toes curling up reflexively. It was a bit too chilly for his liking, but then when one was stark naked that made temperature regulation difficult.

A short chortle sounded beside him, and he glared at the tall blond already dressed.

The horns tipped towards him as Toshi bowed his head in apology. “Pardon me. Your hair is so funny to look at. I didn’t realize…”

“Haven’t had bedhead before?”

“Mm, no? My hair normally looks like this.” Hesitant hands ran through the wild blond hair, face framed by bangs long enough to touch his chest.

Shouta had to wonder if the Pistil even brushed it out or if that hair could grow any longer. There was something about Toshi that reminded him of his closest creche-mate, Hizashi, who had been Pruned even before graduation for having a generally unstable paracapacity, even though Shouta had easily matched him. He hadn’t been able to get in contact with him since.

“Well. Let’s eat.” Shouta moved towards the door.

“Shouldn’t you get ready first?”

Shouta’s lips curled into a smirk, angling his hip to draw those gorgeous blue eyes down. “Did you want a quickie before we go?” At the blank look on his face, Shouta elaborated, “I’m down to be sexual, to have sex again.”

“We-ah, we’d be late,” Toshi squeaked out, a blue-tinted blush overtaking his face. He wrung his hands together some and then excused himself, practically running out of his own resting room.

Something about that shyness sent a thrill of greedy lust pounding through his veins again.

Once their day of Sync testing and possible training exercises was done, he would gladly drag his hands along that supple skin again until the Pistil begged him to come.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos, comments, and bookmarks!
> 
> This was a quick update, but please don't expect the next one to happen as quickly! ;;
> 
> Thank you to BubbleGuppy, shadamy22, and Pineleaf for beta-ing!

Having woken jarringly from peculiar dreams, Toshi hadn’t wanted to disturb the naked man where he rested snugly beside him. So, after a feather light brush of his fingertips over Shouta’s jaw that the sleeping man didn’t even seem to register, Toshi silently slipped out of his bed and went to the utilitarian metal locker on the other side of the room. He had excellent night vision in pure darkness, so he didn’t even need a light. 

Pulling out his communicator from its holder in the door, he opened the hinge, and it automatically slipped out into an L shape. Closing his eyes, he held it lower to his torso, so his body would shield most of the light while it booted.  The orange holographic display showed that he had a message from their Keeper, so he tapped at it to open it.

After a cursory greeting, there was a time-delineated schedule outlining that he would have several exercises to run through with his new Stamen before they could step into a FRANXX. First, they’d be tested separately in individual training simulators, and then together in a training cockpit. If their paracapacity, or P-factor, stabilized enough, they would be allowed into the  _ Heliotrope_, which based off the specs that was provided in an attachment, apparently had a focus on agility rather than the brute strength of the  _ Sunflower_. 

Brimming with excitement, Toshi closed the comm with a snap and tucked it away. Allowing a minute for his eyes to adjust to the dark again, he took a couple of settling breaths. It was really happening. If everything went well, he would be put on active duty again. 

Enthused, he quietly looked through his clothes locker for his top and bottom undersuits. Finding them, the fabric squeaked when he wiggled into them. With his severe weight loss, somebody had obviously re-sized them so it would stay on. He was thankful that the size of the front pouch hadn’t been tampered with because it was already perfectly snug as if someone was holding him in place.

With both hands, Toshi covered the bright blush on his face that he knew Shouta wouldn’t be able to see in the dark even had he been awake. He stirred against the pouch in memory of those warm, gentle hands against him pre-shower before shaking his head furiously. He needed to finish dressing! 

It didn’t take long to roll his long bangs up into loops and use giant hair clamps to pin them in place off of his shoulders. Finally, he stepped up to the intimidating battlesuit dresser twice his size. He glanced over his shoulder to see Shouta still breathing slow and deep, his rest undisturbed. 

Hopefully, this part wouldn’t wake him either.

The automatic dresser was dark and forbidding, but was only forbidding when the lights clicked on as soon as he pulled open the small torso-level door that hung no lower than his thighs. With a breath to calm himself, he turned to face forward spreading his feet into the depressions perfectly sized and fitted for his feet. 

With a hum, the machine came to life. A ring rose from the ground, hovering, dual nozzles spinning. They sprayed sparkling light in a horizontal sweep on his skin, starting at his feet and moving upwards. 

He had to keep his head up and eyes forward so the machine wouldn’t suddenly stop and set off an alarm. The movement was so mesmerizing though... 

The suit grew wherever that sweeping light touched and inched up his skin until even his nape was covered. The light-nozzles switched off and the ring descended. 

He swallowed, hating the next part no matter how many times he went through it. Stilling at the sound of the metal arm detaching from the back of the contraption, he kept his eyes on the black hair of Shouta still sleeping soundly in his bed. 

First the neck part of the head gear was mated around his shoulders. Then with an ominous creak and light groan, metal tubing snapped into place along his spine, which was when he finally breathed out. Lastly, came the hiss and light whirring as his feet were forced into tiptoes by heels attaching into place. Those would make sitting in the stirrups considerably more comfortable, but walking around in them was always a bit awkward.

Once he heard the beep for the all-clear, he opened the thick swing-door again, stepping gingerly down the to the floor. His body swayed and clumsily reoriented itself, having been out of his battlesuit long enough to have forgotten how to stand in it. He toddled over to the locker to drop off the hair clamps just as the automatic dresser powered down with a soft whir, its overhead blue light winking out.

It took a moment for him to remember how to walk straight. He was weaker than before. He could tell because his battle suit was much heavier and stiffer than he remembered. There was light armor built into it, and Stamen controls built-in at the side of his thighs where they joined at his hips. The mechanical hood that was attached to his neck would give the Stamen a display to watch their combined P-factor when it was deployed. 

Of course, the plush-lined hood had been modified to deal with his horns, since those had resisted cutting or filing and even bled when broken, aching after they healed.

Before a FRANXX startup, there was a screen at the floor level console he could look down at, but for the most part he would keep his eyes closed to focus solely on the incoming audiovisual inputs from the FRANXX and to help him merge with the machine.

Then would come the Stamen connection, and that was always an experience. It wasn’t unpleasant, per se, just invasive. 

Toshi had only had the two Stamens before, but both had felt smothering in different and important ways. Seventh had been like his favorite blanket, warm and inviting and easy to relax into, while Nighteye had filled every nook and cranny of him, making him squirm every time they flew together. 

His heart squeezed at the thought of both of them, missing them terribly. He flicked open his comm and tapped out a message to Director Nedzu asking after the memorials. Closing his hand on comm, the hologram blinked out.

Toshi’s face, despite his chest tightening, heated again when he returned to his previous line of thought.

How would piloting with Shouta be like? Overwhelming? Or would Toshi feel like the man was pressing down on him?

_ Oh_. He couldn’t honestly say if this was good or bad as he pressed a hand to his front to help with the pressure, feeling hot all over.

A thrill of expectation hummed through him, but he forced his hand away. Eat. They both needed to eat if they were to keep their energy levels up. So, he entered the eatery to call up two orders of protein-packed liquids from the dispenser. 

Jitteriness aside, Toshi had a good feeling about their first flight together. Once the tubes with built-in straws had been placed on the table, he returned to his sleep room to rouse Shouta. With the lights low, Toshi patted the Stamen’s shoulder, whose hair was adorable and out of control. 

In seeming revenge for Toshi’s laughter, his Stamen had refused to return to his room to get dressed for training, cocking his naked hip and his head with a smirk upon his lips which had promised to… well, what came next was too embarrassing to think about, especially in such a form-fitting suit like this. Toshi had only just calmed down!

So he escaped Shouta’s highly tempting offer  and sat in the eatery to slurp at his nutrient-dense drink, failing to banish the blush from his face.  _ Calm down_, he told himself.  _ We can do  _ that _ again after we complete our daily objectives. _

Taking a deep breath, he deliberately sought out a different line of thought. How Izuku was faring in the 1-A creche? Even though they were incompatible, Toshi was incredibly fond of the last of their series.

A hand brushed across his upper back startling him to straighten in his seat. Toshi glanced over his shoulder as Shouta passed him, wearing a black battle suit of his own with heavier armor over the torso.

“You look good,” Shouta remarked before drawing his breakfast towards him, slowly wrapped his tongue around the straw and sucked down. He did this while maintaining direct eye contact with Toshi, who squirmed and looked away quickly.

His Pistil suit was mostly the same blue as his dress uniform, but it had light purple highlights to it, unlike the green from before. He fondled the tube some, unable to finish it due to nerves.

“Nervous?” came Shouta’s soft voice as he stood to drop the empty tube into the garbage hatch.

“Yes,” Toshi whispered.

Gentle hands pressed against his shoulders as Shouta leaned against him. “Finish your food. You’ll need it.”

Calming, Toshi exhaled and quickly drank the rest with several large gulps. He made to stand, but Shouta patted his back. The Pistil blinked up at him curiously as the empty tube was removed from his fingers.

“Good,” Shouta said, moving away from him to toss the tube down the chute. “Ready to go?”

The blush was back, but Toshi stood. “I was born for this.”

Shouta snorted. “We all were.”

* * *

The training modules had been standard operating procedure when dealing with a fresh pairing, but it was still tedious and boring as hell to Shouta as well as extremely unnecessary.

Once their combined P-factor was determined credibly safe and at a threshold to operate a FRANXX, they were sent to the hangar where the _Heliotrope_ was docked.

The giant blue-purple robot was triangular in shape with thin arms, small shoulder pauldrons, and narrow legs. There was a plumage of vine-like bars reaching towards the heavens connected to its mid-back. The face was blanked out in gray but had the V-crest topping it, similar to the _All Might_. All in all, it looked fast, just like he preferred.

Toshi reached the hatch first, holding a hand up to it to activate the door. He bounced in like a rabbit, easily laying stomach first onto the center console, feet and hands disappearing into the inset holes where the stirrups were. His eyes were glowing with hope and excitement.

A tired Shouta ducked through the hatch, pulling himself through, to step around the Pistil console and levered himself onto the Stamen seat, right behind the Pistil.

Once he settled in, he felt the magnets in the seat engage to hold him in place by his back and legs. Meanwhile, he stared down at the fine feast laid out in front of him. The way the Pistil console was set up necessitated it, but that form-fitting suit with Toshi’s perfectly sculpted ass on view for him, made him warm in all kinds of ways.

Toshi leaned forward more, tilting his head down, and his modified helmet slid forward, leaving his horns exposed. The steering controls unlatched from his hips and spun down, hitching up so Shouta could easily grasp them.

“ _If you’re ready, we will now begin the drill_ ,” Director Nedzu comm-ed them.

“Understood!” Toshi called out while Shouta grunted.

“ _Commence Connection_.”

“With pleasure,” Shouta murmured, and Toshi’s muscles tensed and flexed in his ass, likely in anticipation. The Pistil lacked the expected ball sac, but the view gave unhindered access with his legs spread around the console and ass tilted up. He truly was a feast to look upon. 

Shouta couldn’t help feeling giddy too as he reached for the ergonomic controls. Settling his mind for what was about to happen, he slipped his hands through and gripped tightly. A feeling of dropping into a large body of cold water overtook him as lights seemed to swirl in his peripheral vision.

The Pistil beneath him squirmed, hiking his butt up more, as he tried to muffle deliciously obscene moans. “Sh-Shouta.” The spinal array leading from the Stamen control unit sequentially lit up, and their P-factor hovered at an optimal efficiency displayed at the nape of Toshi’s helmet; it was a very stable equilibrium between positive and negative factors.

The expected points of orange light hovered in front of the helmet's round depressions where the dull blue horns on Toshi's forehead would be.

“You’re perfect,” Shouta praised warmly, which Toshi responded well to, loosening up. "Ready to go?”

“Y-yes!!”

With glowing blue eyes and a broad grin, _Heliotrope_ left its cradle, sliding out the industrial-grade, heavy-duty silicon holding its boots in place.

Though his spirits were high, Shouta was already tired, and they hadn’t even left through the bay doors. His face was hot like he hadn’t quite gotten over his fever yet. He’d be fine; he was sure it wasn’t anything serious.

Sensing something amiss through their shared link _, Heliotrope’_ s triangular head appeared on the screen to his right with worried glowing, blue eyes. Toshi's eyes. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, let’s get this over with.”

They went through several basic controls: evasive maneuvers, requiring handstand flips, sideswipes, and extremely high jumps helped by the magma boosters set at the bottom of the hoof-like boots.

The white fluff around them was thoroughly disturbed by their actions. Shouta was in breathless awe by how svelte this model moved under the slightest nudge of his hands. _Heliotrope_ was truly a masterpiece all the more helped by the fact that a Klaxo-hybrid was wearing it.

The plumage from its back were rocket launchers, shooting orange blades imbued with magma energy shooting effortlessly through the targets. _Heliotrope_ 's whip-like arms were weapons as well, most effective at close-range as they sliced through the remaining dummies like cheese.

It was a far cry from the last model FRANXX he’d been in. That one was a very drab, mass produced model which had a harpoon as its predominant weapon, using it as a spear only as a last resort, and his Pistil then while extremely talented in her own right, had nothing on Toshi’s receptivity.

This was a hell of an upgrade. The world spun under them as the Heliotrope effortlessly did a series of dizzying backflips ending in a crouch, whip-like orange blades at ready to attack.

No matter how hard he pushed for the most insane movements, his Pistil was responsive, reacting to his every touch with a ragged gasp. Shouta had the incredible thought that Toshi’s limits laid far beyond his own, which was why there had been no fight for control. Toshi simply offered up _Heliotrope_ passively. Likely, the Pistil was holding back just so Shouta wasn’t inadvertently hurt.

It was a shocking thought that he wanted to explore more, except that his vision suddenly blurred. His hearing began to whine in one ear and then he lost sense of what he was supposed to be doing, even with his Pistil’s warmth down the connection urging him to keep going. Instead, his hands dropped limply from the controls, which disengaged the locks holding him to the seat, and he lolled, slumping to the side.

“Shouta? What...!" A terrified gasp ripped from the Pistil.

Oh so gentle hands cradled his face. He couldn't open his eyes no matter how much he willed them to. Even though his lips parted, he couldn't manage more than an inarticulate growl. He wanted to sleep. His whole body felt hot and heavy.

"Shouta...? What’s wrong? Shouta, _answer me_!" 

The ambi-pilot relaxed fully against those cool palms, sighing out.

"Shouta!!!”

* * *

Dr. Werner Franxx, the man who was more cyborg than elderly human and had created the sole weapon effective against the Klaxosaur threat, hummed with deep interest at the readings transmitted from the _Heliotrope_ displayed on the large holographic screen in various shades of red-orange.

“Interesting, no?” His colleague squeaked.

“We always knew the inoculations doubled the chance of a rejection with such uneven pairings, but this is unprecedented,” he uttered with a strange metallic echo due to having needed to have a large section of his esophagus replaced. “The only other mixed pairing, where the undeveloped Human specimen managed their first ride largely intact, was that special specimen who escaped the Garden with Zero Two. Ah, that was only five years ago now.”

“Yes, I read that report,” the director said, beady eyes on the display. “I had a hunch that sharing of bodily fluids would have the same effect here as Code 002’s blood had on Code 016.”

Scratching his bushy mustache, the doctor tilted his half-cyborg head, opening his fully metal jaw to laugh. “Quite the gambler, aren’t you?”

“Code 042’s sensors last night recorded several spikes in body temperature. He had a low grade fever, similar in fluctuation to Code 016’s. The only uncertainty was whether his body needed more time to acclimate to the yellow blood cells introduced to his system.”

“Mm,” he grunted. Some time elapsed while they watched the _Heliotrope_ move fluidly through the snow-covered training field built specifically for it. “In some ways, I’m jealous of 042.” He clutched his artificial left arm which harbored a piece of his obsession in its depths. “To be able to connect to a beautiful creation such as Code 008.”

“Ah, _yes_. That reminds me. Didn’t you use your own genetic code for the FP40 series?”

“Oh-ho,” the doctor sighed out, impressed, “And where did you hear that, I wonder?”

“Papa entrusted me with the full history and documentation of the FRANXX and Parasite program, even the parts you attempted to hide away.” Director Nedzu turned, raising his fuzzy face with what looked to be an apologetic smile under his massive rat snout. “He wants this war to be done with as soon as possible.”

“As long as my research isn’t interfered with, I don’t care either way.”

Alarms went off as messages and warning signs lit up across the display.

**Critical failure.**

**Connection to Stamen lost**.

They watched the screens centered on _Heliotrope_ as it leaned back, circles flickering down its face as its Pistil took complete control, lacking its counterbalancing Stamen.

**Stampede Mode engaged.**

_Heliotrope_ folded in on itself into a quadrupedal, bestial form, roaring on a direct path to the bay, whip-like appendages flailing out like the snakes of a mythical creature.

“Oh dear.” Director Nedzu calmly flicked open his comm. “Medical, be ready to accept _Heliotrope_ ’s Stamen.”

“ _Yes, sir!”_

Feeling irked at the result, Dr. Werner frowned. “Looks like your little experiment may have failed.”

“Oh, don’t worry. The Stamen lives. Code 008 would not be rushing to return a corpse to us.”

That guess was uncomfortably spot-on to his deep irritation on the matter. Dr. Franxx cleared his throat. “My observation here shows that the _Heliotrope_ will be a successful addition to our special forces.”

“And the others?” The director prompted.

“They’ll be ready by the end of the month. In time for your most elite graduates to helm them. Now, if I may.”

“Thank you, doctor. I wouldn’t dare keep you away from your lab any longer.”

“Hmph,” he replied to the hyper-intelligent, bipedal rodent. With his cane, he waddled towards the door with as much dignity as his hips would allow. He would likely have to convert to an assisted mobility device by the end of the year.

Of the hundred Children he designed for the FP40 series, around seventy passed the pilot training without pruning. Of that number, only four survived the Klaxosaurs’ culling in a period of six years. Of the four survivors, only Code 042 remained on active duty, openly defying any orders that lowered his chances of survival.

It was a good method as any to whittle down the doctor’s offspring to the most worthy. It amused Werner that 042 so reminded him of himself in his youth, both in appearance and behavior. Additionally, the Parasite's burgeoning fascination with 008 was also uncommonly uncanny.

Survival of the fittest truly was an appropriate way to determine inheritance and would ensure that his genetic line would live through the next generation.

Everything the doctor worked towards would become his son's.

Should that time come.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone and Happy New Year!
> 
> Thank you to BubbleGuppy and Pineleaf for beta-ing! And to PinetreeVillain for all the little doodles and helpful mech design suggestions!! ♥ ♥!!

_“Hey, I’m your new Stamen, Code 176! I hope we can pilot together for a long time!”_

_Toshi barely glanced at the new Stamen candidate, still in shock over the sudden loss of 46, no, Yorume. Nighteye._

_What had Nighteye meant by incompatibility? They’d been on their third ride together and then he’d—_

_176 knelt next to him with his boring black eyes, nothing like the sharp yellow of Yorume. Yet, they were wide and expressive as they stared up at him with worry. Toshi felt distanced from him._

_“008, I understand how hard it is. I’m the last one left from my own creche, too. I know how lonely it is.”_

_Toshi frowned. Static stretched over the Stamen’s face, eerily scrambling his features._

_Who… who was this Stamen?_

_A blue hand rose to touch 176’s cheek and the pilot leaned into it in an expression of trust even though his face was blank now. “I can do it; I promise!”_

_Breath catching, Toshi was suddenly feeling crowded and unsure. He only looked away for a moment, but when he turned back, the form of the Stamen had slumped against him, bloody with lifeless eyes. Toshi clung to it, tears falling freely._

_He must have held too tightly because the corpse transformed into mist, and he was alone again._

_He... this was…_

_Was this reality?_

_Even through Toshi’s numbness, alarms began to blare from the loss of a Stamen connection. Terrified, Toshi sat up hood falling back. “Shouta!”_

_He twisted his body, catching sight of a green-haired pilot with a single blond stripe running through._

_Oh no. Not again._

_The Stamen’s breathing was labored, and he was clutching his ribs as if they hurt._

_“Nighteye! What’s wrong?” They would be in trouble if they couldn’t take down the Plantation-sized Klaxosaur. The rest of the platoon was busy taking on the small fry._

_Shit, had he not noticed his Stamen’s illness? This was bad._

_“It’s not your fault.” Yellow the color of sunlight stared into his eyes, dimming. “We’re incompatible. The only way we’re getting out of this with our dignity intact is to destroy it with_ Sunflower’s _self-destruction.”_

_“In-incompatible? What’re you—” His Stamen’s eyes had flared brightly in that moment, cutting off anything Toshi had to say._

_“I —— you.” His cool voice fizzled out strangely, those beautiful eyes unwavering in their intensity. Toshi didn’t know what his Stamen was trying to say. With his gloved hands he reached out to him..._

_But the center console was unfolding into a protective capsule. It was closing around him, cocooning him, the emergency ejector having activated by the downward slam of the Stamen’s raised fist._

_Toshi was falling blind, but he felt the explosive shock running through the cramped vessel. Cold creeped into him, knowing what that meant. “NOOOOOOOOOOO!”_

He jerked awake as if he had fallen straight back into his body. His panting echoed oddly. There was an oxygen mask strapped to his face and something going off beside him. His mind was whirling with images from his dream, but he knew where he was and who his Stamen was.

“Sho...ta,” he panted, wincing when it felt like his lung caught on a rib.

“008, you need to breathe evenly and deeply,” an unveiled, green-haired— though it was graying—woman with a round face peered down at him. “There. See?”

“Where’s…” He tried to sit up, but he was so weak that a single hand stopped him from going farther. He slumped back, exhausted.

“Stamen 042 is recuperating. His fever was dangerous, but it’s within safe parameters again,” she answered easily. “I’m your nurse, FP40-T3NL-017. I’m retired though, so you can call me Inko.”

“Will… he… be…” He gasped on each word, unable to breathe.

“Shh. They say his chances for full recovery are very high, though his diagnostics show an abnormal amount of yellow blood cells which is probably the cause for the fever. His body will adjust.” She smiled, though it slid into one that was reminiscent of Nana’s when she was scolding Toshi.

He felt cowed even before his nurse began to talk again. “You need to rest. You cracked four ribs and lacerated your liver when you entered Stampede mode as you did.”

That meant at least a half-day of rest before he could get back into a FRANXX. Likely they’d keep him down for a full day just to be safe. Shit.

“I understand with Klaxo-hybrids that you have an astronomical healing factor, but you should really take care of yourself, considering your precarious condition.” She smiled again. “After all, you’re part of the Garden Defense Force! How will you protect us if you can’t pilot?”

Nurse Inko was taking his position seriously instead of treating it as the farce it was, so Toshi bent his head forward. “I’m… sorry.” He’d panicked. A rookie mistake, but he hadn’t been able to think straight when Shouta had collapsed like that. His body had reacted without a conscious decision.

“I have some reading materials if you’re bored. Are there any authors you prefer? Or topics?”

Several minutes of his wheezing passed, until Toshi finally managed, “Extinct… fauna?”

“Certainly!” She brought a stand over and attached a holographic projector frame to it, after choosing a book to display for him. “This is an encyclopedia published before the mass extinction. I went ahead and picked the article on large mammals. If you don’t think you can hit the links with a finger, I can help you calibrate the eyescanner to make a selection if you’d like?”

“Thanks… I’ve… got it.”

She bowed lightly and gestured towards a small switch affixed to his bed’s railing. “If you need my assistance for anything, please don’t hesitate using the Call Button there.”

Toshi nodded, giving her a tired smile of his own. “Thank...you.”

With another bow, she slid the door open and slipped out into the hallway.

Now alone, his eyes slipped off the orange words floating in front of him.

Had he had another Stamen before 042? Or was 176 a figment of his imagination?

He smoothly swiped a hand through the careful selection, and a new search bar appeared.

It blinked at him slowly. How extensive was his access here?

He typed in Nighteye’s complete series, NJT-9BN-046, and to his immense surprise his profile showed up, complete with his Rise and Fall Dates.

Eyes growing misty, Toshi scrolled through, surprised by how decorated his former Stamen had been in military achievements against the Klaxosaur threat. There was a handy box filled with general shorthand information about him: what his direct lineage was via series, what series his line spawned, which Pistils he piloted with, among other things.

With a sort of dangerous curiosity, he clicked on his own full code, UP0-1FA-008.

His profile in comparison was brief and didn’t even have pictures, possibly because he was active duty. There was a brief synopsis of his exploits. His eyes were immediately drawn to the box to the right, and discovered a list of _four_ Stamen codes, not the three he expected…

Feeling incredibly unwell, he swiped his hand to close out of the article on him.

DSH-4YU-176 had existed. But he had no memory of him, other than what was jarred out of his brain by Shouta’s sudden collapse.

 _We’re incompatible,_ Nighteye had said.

Incompatibility, then, meant… certain death?

It felt like his insides had dropped, and his heart rate spiked. He was unable to catch his breath again.

_Why can’t I remember 176? What else have I forgotten??_

“008,” a voice called, while warm hands held him in place. The chirping of the machine next to him didn’t stop its racket.

A dangerous thought cleared above his panic. _Is Shouta sick because of me?_

“Toshi, breathe for me,” Shouta whispered in his ear, causing a full body shudder, and Toshi’s eyes shot open as he shoved both hands up to cling to the tired Stamen.

He tried. He took great heaving breaths, holding them, but then tears came streaming down his face. “We can’t… pilot.”

“Why?”

“You’ll… _die_. I… c-can’t.”

Black hair curtained around them as Shouta pressed his forehead against Toshi’s, something clinking against his smaller horns. The mask was the only reason why they weren’t kissing.

Toshi was at a loss for words as he stared up at Shouta’s reddish-black eyes, faint markings painting the place along his eye ducts. “Shouta… What…”

“There’s no chance you’ll cause my death.”

Eyes wide, Toshi stared up at his Stamen as he pulled away.

“Because I’m already changing.”

Twin protrusions, for they were barely nubs and could hardly be called _horns_ , were mostly hidden by Shouta’s loose hair. A wicked smile appeared on the Stamen's face.

“You’re mine, _darling_.”

 

* * *

 

When 042 woke, it was slow going. His eyes felt lightly glued together and grimy. Rubbing at them, he took a deep breath to yawn.

Sitting up, he blinked and looked around. Everything seemed clearer? He could read the sign on the door from his bed and that wasn’t something he could do before at this distance.

He scrubbed his hair back from his face, and his palms ran over _bumps_ on his forehead. Two of them. What. The. Fuck.

“Ah, so you’ve woken, Shouta. It appears you’re in the midst of Metamorphosis.” Nedzu was standing beside his bed, barely peeking through the railing.

“What.”

“You’ve had an enormous influx of Yellow Blood Cells, or YBCs, into your body. Once that hits a critical level, there’s no turning back.” He stepped back scratching his chin. “You do know what they are, yes?”

“...They’re found in Klaxosaurs…” Understanding dawned on the pilot, and he gripped the sheets covering his legs. “Metamorposis. You mean, I’m…” He glanced at his hands, turning them over with his inspection. They didn’t seem any different? But the bumps on his head… He touched them again. Were they the start of Klaxo-horns?

“Becoming compatible with the level of Toshi’s true ability. It’s a curious process.” Nedzu tilted his head down, pressing his paws together. “Unless genetically designed to quickly flush out the highly mutagenic YBCs, human immune systems generally reject the aggressive insurgence of any foreign cells the old-fashioned way. This tendency ends up dooming the recipient due to the insane propagation factor of YBCs.” A furred ear flicked as he looked at Shouta again. “You were never inoculated, so your immune system wasn’t primed to fight back when Toshi’s YBCs slipped into your system. In fact, your body was overrun and quickly overwhelmed, allowing the change to begin.”

“You _knew_ this would happen?? _You rat bastard._ ”

Nedzu cracked a grin. “Had you tried to ride in a real battle with Toshi before that, you would have died within three times of doing so. It is regrettably their fate; that is, unaltered human pilots will be killed by the vast difference in physical durability between themselves and their Klaxo-human hybrid Pistil. The G forces inside the FRANXX in a life or death situation crush their human partners. There’s no way to prevent that other than by hindering the superhuman purpose of Klaxo-hybrids with limiters on the FRANXX. Obviously, that would never do.”

“That… So you paired us up, expecting me to...”

“Yes, I took advantage of your predisposition towards sexual acts to raise P-factors. I deliberately roomed you together expecting this very result.” The sentient rodent tilted his head, nose twitching. “Fortunately, you survived. There’s always a chance of a complete rejection. And it seems you have no qualms against the pairing.”

Shouta bared his teeth; he would never admit that Toshi was perfect for him. “What is his code? He’s not with the 9’s.”

Nedzu nodded. “He’s one of the last of the One for All series, from an entirely different genetic strain of Klaxosaur than that of the 9’s and the infamous 002.” He raised a finger. “You’d probably know him better as the _Sunflower’s_ Pistil.”

Exhaling hard, Shouta leaned forward in shock. Everyone had heard of the 1FA series; they were legendary for their prowess at slaying Klaxosaurs. To think that he was paired with _All Might’s_ Pistil?? Unreal.

“Well. I have other matters to attend to, but I have one last bit of advice before we part.”

Shouta’s anger had mostly fizzled out, but he kept his lips pressed together.

“You’ve only just begun the Chrysalis stage. To speed the process along, you should continue taking in as much of Toshi’s YBCs as you can.”

Shouta’s face flushed hot, and he scowled. “I don’t need more motivation. I was going to do that regardless.”

The director let out of snickering whuff. “Of course. Have a good day, Shouta. A nurse should be in shortly to answer any questions you may have.”

Now finally alone, Shouta was free to let his mind go wild thinking about his incredible Pistil, the blond’s reactions and the tiny noises he tried to hold back. However, the thought of having his way with Toshi again sent a sharp throbbing pain across his abdomen.

The thought of other strange changes happening to Shouta had him kicking his sheets off. That action alone made Shouta hiss in pain, hands clutching over the gown covering his belly.

He ripped up the gown. The medical personnel had left his bottom half in his skintight under-suit. Above his groin, a red mass of corded flesh pulsed like some parasitic fungi. He touched it, and its spongy surface depressed without pain. It felt like he was poking his own belly though. So this was _his_ skin?

The door opened and a green-haired nurse walked in. Oh, that was his retired series kin, though the memories were hazy at best, having been connected to a large blank spot in Shouta’s brain.

“Inko…?” His eyes searched her kind green ones.

“Hi, Shouta,” the nursed nodded towards him, approaching with a smile. “Ah, so you’ve found the skin tumor. Don’t worry; it’s benign. It seems to be growing into your nerves a bit so it may hurt a little but there’s no reason to remove it.”

Shouta glanced down at the patch of bright red skin, pulsating unnaturally. “This doesn’t look benign.”

“It will scar over once your body has completely acclimated to the YBCs. They only return when you receive internal damage below it.” With gloved hands, she quickly checked his vitals. “You’re still running a bit high, temperature-wise. How are you feeling?”

“I feel great. Not tired at all.”

“Good!” She threw away the cover she’d used in his ear for the temperature probe. “So I heard you were going to be Creche 1-A’s FRANXX trainer?”

Shouta nodded, while she cuffed his arm and waited for air to automatically fill it.

“There’s rumors that Dr. Todoroki’s chimera will be abandoned there since they failed to run a FRANXX by themselves like the other three the doctor had personally Raised.”

“Chimera?” Shouta murmured as she let air out of the inflated cuff. “Is that a kind of Klaxo-hybrid?”

“Yes. The doctor is trying to combine two pilots in one.” She snorted, removing the arm cuff. “I think it’s foolish. Honestly, Dr. Shield trying to modify the FRANXX system to be controlled by a single Pistil has a higher chance of success.”

The fact that this information was being given to Parasites was frankly amazing. Shouta had to keep holding back his incredulity. He had never spoken to any of the scientists behind the scenes of the Garden’s operations, not the Parasite crop-raisers or the FRANXX R&D workers.

“I see.” If that Chimera got dumped in the 1-A Creche… it would spell disaster for the pilot-selects there, knowing now what he did about YBCs. Shouta leaned his head back so she could press firm fingers to the sides of his neck, checking his lymph nodes.

“But, if another is added to 1-A, that would give the last of the 1FA series a chance to partner up.” She finished probing his neck. “I feel sorry for that Stamen Select. He works so hard, but the only Pistil with which he has high paracapacity can’t work with him due to incompatible temperaments.” She sighed, stripping off the gloves into the trash and washing her hands thoroughly.

“Last of the… They’re discontinuing the One for All series??”

“Well… you know the creator, Dr. Robert Sup…” She picked up a penlight. He opened his mouth so she could inspect it, and then checked his eyes with a sweep of the light. “That doctor’s vanished without a trace. Then suddenly, crops of Parasites were sabotaged.” She put away the penlight and wrung her hands. “At least that’s what I’ve heard.”

“You think he’s a traitor?”

“It seems likely.” She gathered up the PADD, typing quickly over it to add in whatever her examination had uncovered.

Meanwhile, Shouta tried to imagine why anybody would rebel against APE, the global leadership of the remains of humanity. Surely not to join forces with the Klaxosaurs. What a ridiculous thought.

It was more probable that Dr. Sup disagreed with how Parasites were treated as little more than play-things to be thrown away when they no longer served a purpose or failed to be useful.

Which made the radical transformation of the Garden’s daily operations extremely suspicious. Or perhaps it was not so strange to want to find a purpose beyond piloting for retired Parasites when so many resources were poured into their development. The cost of maintaining an old model versus creating a new one was higher, wasn’t it?

“Shouta?”

He blinked. “Sorry. My mind wandered.”

Inko smiled, tablet held to her chest. “Are you ready to step into the Diagnostor? The doctor wanted a full body panel.”

Shouta nodded, sliding out of the bed. He pulled the gown off and stepped into the adjacent room with all manner of scanners.

An hour later, he was released on light duty on the promise that he wouldn’t do anything too strenuous.

Standing in the long hallway of the Medical Wing, Shouta was hit with an extremely strong urge. It seemed like an imperative directive by the way it caught his breath.

He needed to see his Pistil.

Snooping, Shouta paced down the hall, inspecting each room he passed, until he finally found him ten rooms over. His Pistil looked so incredibly frail, pale and struggling to breathe, that a protective drive overtook his limbs.

He calmed Toshi from his panic attack, soothed away his fears.

Perhaps the Pistil had known how deadly it was to fly with him.

But that assumption seemed suspect because of how frantic and raw Toshi was in that moment.

Maybe the scare of Shouta’s collapse had jogged altered memories. It certainly seemed likelier that the blond’s previous Keeper had deemed that knowledge as unnecessary and had wiped it from his brain. As long as a phenomenal Pistil existed, it didn’t matter how many lackluster Stamens died, right?

That attitude made the idea of Dr. Sup’s probable defection tolerable.

“You’re mine, _darling_.” He gathered up the Pistil’s blue hands and kissed his black fingernails. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here.”

The rough breathing eased, and color filled Toshi’s cheeks as his eyes glowed brightly at him. “O-okay. Uh… I’m grounded... for a day. Cracked some... ribs.”

“Can I see?”

“I guess?”

Pulling the sheets down, Shouta carefully lifted Toshi’s gown to see a connected, pulsating, blue skin patch running over certain ribs, a little left and down from his breast bone. His gaze trailed down the beautifully patterned skin to see the under-suit straining to contain Toshi’s writhing arousal. A thrill shot straight down his spine at the sight.

With a casual flick, he dropped the gown, and Toshi’s face was bright blue with a flustered expression. “I have one too.” Shouta pulled up his gown and traced fingers over the red skin patch, watching as Toshi’s eyes drifted much farther down.

His Pistil made a cute strangled noise when he realized Shouta was as aroused as he was, eyes darting back up to Shouta’s face, searching.

“I could take your mind off your ribs,” Shouta said with a deliberately slow lick of his lips.

Toshi squirmed, looking away. “N-not here... Someone might... walk in.”

“Suit yourself. I’ll be waiting for you in our quarters.”

“W-wait.”

The desperation and want in the Pistil's voice made Shouta pause at the door, glancing over his shoulder.

“L-lock the... door first?”

Shouta smirked, turning the lock, even knowing that wouldn’t stop staff for more than a few seconds if they wanted in, and then drew the curtains around the bed. “Lift the gown for me? I want to see your face while I get a taste.”

The fabric was raised, and Shouta slipped two forefingers under the rim of the under-suit, peeling it down carefully. The sight of the weeping phallus flopping out of its pouch and the soft sigh of relief from his Pistil caused Shouta’s mouth to water. How would it feel for it to move after slipping between his lips?

He looked up at Toshi, whose eyes were hazy with expectation, and then he leaned against the bed, cupping the underside of his slimy, almost-hot cock and slurped at the closed tip. It tasted musky, an almost savory flavor, slightly salty and earthy. When Shouta gently sucked, the foreskin unfurled a bit and Toshi let out an excited gasp. The beeping machine on the other side of the bed chirped out a warning before quieting when Toshi’s heartbeat lowered again.

So, this would only be a tease for the both of them. It was worth it. He looked up at Toshi’s blue-flushed face, slipping a tongue between the closing foreskin and the squishier, twitching member the flexing skin protected.

His Pistil’s hips flexed under him as the machine went from chirping to raising a racket. Easily pulling off of him, Shouta straightened, licking his lips, and carefully tucked the gown back into place, and pulled up the sheets over Toshi’s long legs.

Mask fogging up from his erratic panting, Toshi’s glowing eyes lusted after him in hazy confusion when Shouta patted his re-covered chest. “I’ll get the full meal later.”

Breathing more rapidly, Toshi let out a slight whine and latched a hand around Shouta’s wrist. “ _Please_.”

“I’m sorry. You’ll have to wait until you’ve healed up.” He took a step back with a tender look, slipping free from the loosening grip, just as Nurse Inko ripped the curtains back.

Whipping his hands away, Toshi tucked them one over the other atop his groin.

Thankfully, Nurse Inko only took a cursory look at her patient before shoving a forefinger into Shouta’s breastbone. “ _You_ are disturbing his _rest_. _Get out._ ”

“Certainly, Nurse Inko.” Shouta met his Pistil’s vibrant eyes. That clear hope of a continuation of such activities made Shouta’s impatience all that much harder to batten down. He left the room and headed to their suite of rooms, even though he wanted nothing more than to stay by Toshi’s side.

Shouta took a calming breath, hoping it would clear his head a little. He had two more days to prepare for the class. He felt he knew the material well enough and already had an outline on how he would start several lessons in advance. Now he needed to know more about the individuals of this future platoon.

Hopefully there was a class roster already uploaded on his PADD with their stats listed.

With a press of his hand on the scanner, he entered the humid room, smelling of a wet, earthy wild he had never experienced outside of his imagination. The sight of the chair under the magma lamps immediately brought to mind his earlier tryst with his co-pilot. Shouta let the sensation of those memories trickle through him again for several moments, soaking it up.

With a shake of his head, he shoved his brain back on track. _Coffee first_ , he thought, changing course to pick some up at the dispenser before heading back to his room.

He tied his hair back and changed out of the gown and undersuit, slipping into one of those ridiculous cat pajama onesies. Then he wrapped his scarf around his neck.

He booted the meowing PADD and quickly found the information he was looking for.

Six Pistils and Seven Stamens, and an incoming, untested Pistil.

So, Nurse Inko’s intel was true.

He stared at the photo of the Pistil with pale, ghostly white skin, patchy with flat red blots reminiscent of a two-colored calico cat.

NJT-CH1M-004 had heterochromia, one eye pink and the other a pastel green. Their hair seemed perfectly split between a rich red color and pure white, and there was a line sliding down the white skin under the pink eye like a bloody tear drop. A single blood red horn—antler-like in appearance—seemed to have burst from the side of their head from the red hair and curved sharply up with a twist at the end.

According to their previous Keeper’s notes, the Pistil was completely un-socialized and likely unsuited to traditional FRANXX piloting.

If that Pistil failed here, they’d be Pruned, no doubt about it.

Shouta rubbed his face, startling at the nubs on his forehead again.

Multiple series strains had been bio-engineered into 004, but the only one Shouta recognized was 002’s.

He swiped to the unpaired Stamen, UP0-1FA-009d.

There was an entire section blacked out by a Classified Lock, though Shouta couldn't say what information was missing since the usual sections were there.

That was worrying.

Shouta pressed his lips together. Bright green eyes and hair sparkled up at him from the photo. A glance at the Stamen Select’s Series Sires confirmed that they were indeed a series derivative from Shouta's own, specifically Inko’s. Interesting.

Maybe she had taken special interest in this one, when she had seen that she had contributed to the last pilot from the One for All series.

How unusual. Why was there a letter after the personal code of the serial number?

Letting that thought go for now, he scrolled through 009d’s perfect marks in the AI simulators, and the dismal, worse-than-average results when paired with an actual pilot.

The Creche supervisor noted that the Stamen’s low aggression counts in the Temperament Scale might be the cause for his poor performance. However, switching 009d to the Pistil position had met utter failure. The previous Director had ordered a test run of 009d with 008, but that too had ended with negligible synchronization.

Shouta sighed. His usual panacea wouldn't work with barely out-of-diapers pilots. They hadn't even reached full sexual maturity anyway. Instead, there would be trust-building activities and team-building practice missions… time-intensive drills that would force them to rely on each other.

It would have to suffice.

He would pair 009d and 004 first, and if that didn't work.

Well.

He hoped it would, considering that 004’s YBC required a Stamen specifically created to reject genetic incursion and be physically more durable than their counterparts.

Otherwise, they would both get Pruned.

 

* * *

 

“And _this_ will be your new room!” The tall, cheerful Creche Supervisor said, waving a hand towards the door.

Pressing the ID he’d been given to the scanner, 004 entered the cramped quarters, lights flickering on. He turned to stand rigidly at attention.

“Remember, breakfast is served starting at oh-seven-hundred tomorrow!”

004 in a standard issue, bulky gray uniform nodded.

Something flickered on the Supervisor’s face, his long hair swaying with the slight shake of his head. Strands of pure white hair flickered outside 004’s range of vision, but when he glanced towards it, the illusion disappeared.

A clap resounded, probably to redirect his attention, and 004 managed not to flinch at the sudden noise.

“If you need anything at all, comm me. I programmed a shortcut, so all you have to do is press the ‘1’ key for it to call. Okay?”

004 nodded to confirm.

“Great! Get some rest. You’ll have a long day of tests tomorrow, and you’ll need to be sharp!” With a wild grin, the Creche Supervisor raised a hand and made it sway side to side before the door slid shut behind him.

As soon as his new Keeper was gone, 004 slumped against the chair he had deliberately positioned himself beside. His body ached, his leg smarting, and his head felt both heavy and too light.

They had said he would have to pilot with someone if he wanted to avoid his life getting cut short.

He didn’t think that was possible, finding a match this late. His chances as the ‘perfect failure’ were slim.

Ah, he’d been ordered to rest, hadn’t he? What a peculiar order. He pushed himself upright and stumbled across the spacious room to the raised cushion that, he assumed, was for sleeping; he estimated his new room was eight times larger than the adequately-sized one he’d been allotted in Dr. Todoroki’s lab, where he had just enough space to stand, stretch, and lie down.

Who needed this much space?

He laid down, staring up at the ceiling. The lights clicked off after a long period of no movement, and several tiny lights gleamed from the walls and ceiling. Irritating. The cushioning under him was too soft and made him far more aware of his current pains.

Sitting up—the lights flickered back on—he grabbed the smallest pillow, slid off the raised sleeping surface, and laid on the ground. It was much cooler there and hard with familiarity.

He slept as much as he dared. No doubt the new Keeper would have an AI watching him like Dr. Todoroki had.

004 had to at least attempt to show compliance, even if he didn’t know long he had to stay rigidly still in the process.

The code ‘oh-seven-hundred’ hadn’t made sense to 004 in the way it was used. It was probably slang for… a place?

He didn’t know how long he fitfully slept, but as soon as he felt wouldn’t be penalized, he began his usual training regime. Thankfully, there was a faucet where he could get water and a cup he could use, and even a towel he could clean himself off with. He discarded the sweaty uniform to the side in a pile.

Searching the room, he discovered shelves with more standard gray uniforms, folded neatly and hiding behind small doors. He slipped them on and sat on the raised cushion, waiting.

The rest he had been ordered to take had already helped the pains in his leg and body. It meant he could wait, just like this, with minimal discomfort.

He could wait as long as he needed before someone fetched him for this ‘breakfast’ activity.

Waiting, at least, was familiar.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the inconsistencies in the description of Toshi's horns. Forgive me. I sorted it all out finally but holy cow.
> 
> He has 3 sets, 2 sets from his forehead that are blue and straight/sharp with the frontmost being shorter. The last set sit on top of his head above his ears and were broken/sheared off awhile ago; they're covered by his hair. It's important but I wasn't clear before. Thanks!
> 
> Forewarning: the second half of this chapter is very smutty. 
> 
> Here's to you BubbleGuppy! (And I appreciate Eearnest for looking over the bit with kids of the 1-A creche.)

“They’re not here,” Izuku mumbled out. Of them all, he was most eager to meet the new transfer, a detested label Hitoshi was glad to hand over.

The table was full, six pilot pairs and Izuku, save for the one Sensei said would be joining them. Nobody would eat until everyone showed up.That was the unwritten rule.

“Maybe Sensei forgot to show them where the cafeteria is?” With bright pink skin and curly horns, Mina looked up with a curious frown. Meeting her white irises in a field of black, Hitoshi nodded at the possibility his Pistil co-pilot presented. He was sad that their checkup was during the revered Eighth’s surprise visit the day before yesterday, but he hoped that _All Might_ ’s Pistil would be back again. Mina wanted to see his eyes for herself!

Being a klaxo-hybrid herself, Mina had been disappointed to say the least, though she tried to play it off. Even perpetually half-asleep, Hitoshi couldn’t help but notice when his best friend was down.

“Oi, Hitoshi, you get them,” Katsuki growled out.

Hitoshi snorted at him, rolling his eyes as he rested his chin in his hand.

The explosive blond raised a fist. “Hey, I saw that!! You want me to send Deku instead? Look at him! He’d make all of us look bad.”

“Hate to say it, bro, but Katsuki’s right,” Denki said. “You’re the calmest one of us and the best listener—”

“- _well, of course he is, weh-for-brains—"_

As usual, Denki ignored Katsuki’s interruption, while the blue-haired Tenya lightly chopped Katsuki’s head and sternly scolded him. Katsuki seemed more and more belligerent by the second.

“So! It makes sense if you went!” Denki turned his lightning-striped bright blond head to his purple-haired partner, “Right, Kyouka??”

“The idiot has a point. Mezo has too many arms and that might frighten someone not used to seeing it, and Fumikage… well, he talks too formally, even worse than Tenya.”

“You mean, every fucking word out of his mouth is a riddle or limerick,” Katsuki interjected, rubbing his scalp and looking sulkily at Tenya who returned to his seat next to his Stamen, Momo.

“That is patently untrue, and I take offense at your typical vulgar and simplistic jabs,” Fumikage said with a banal tone, feather-soft hair fluffing at Katsuki’s insult.

“I like the way you talk,” came the softly spoken defense from Mezo, whose mouth and neck were wrapped in a skintight undersuit that he never removed, not even for bathing as far as Hitoshi could tell.

Fumikage sent back a slightly surprised look, hair-feathers un-fluffing. “I appreciate you too,” he cooed as he leaned his shoulder against Mezo’s.

“Oh my god. UGH,” Katsuki complained. “Eiji tell them to stop.”

“Shut up, Kacchan. They’re cute.” With a wide grin, the Stamen nodded at the two. “Y’all just keep it up. You’ve got the best sync rates of us all.” He gave them a thumbs’ up and a wink.

“U-uh. I hate to barge in, but I’m pretty hungry, so…” Ochako began, her eyes glancing up at Hitoshi with a pleading gaze. She clapped her hands together and bowed her head. “Hikkun, _please._ I’m begging you. I might eat my right hand at this rate!!”

“She really might, ribbit.”

“I told you to cut it out, you frog freak.”

“Whatever, _ribbit_. You ribbity-ribbit, rib-ribbit!!”

“ _Did you cuss me out? What the shit, you little—”_

Momo clamped a hand on Katsuki’s shoulder. “Calm down. You’re very hangry right now. We all are. So if you would please, Hitoshi?”

With a heavy sigh, he stood up, waving their cheers and well-wishes away.

Less than five minutes later, he was knocking on the door to the room of their newly transferred crechemate in the Pistil’s dormitory. There was no answer. He frowned and palmed the scanner, the door swishing open without any resistance.

He looked across the small standard-sized room. A pile of dirty laundry laid on the ground, so he ventured in to pick it up and throw it down the chute. He paused when he saw a body laying in the bed, which had been blocked by the privacy panels from someone looking in from the door. He slowly turned and approached.

The transfer wasn’t dead, was he?

Once he was within a meter of the bed, the transfer sat up ramrod straight, causing Hitoshi to startle back a few steps.

Well, the transfer was… they were gorgeous, striking with the blotches of pink and red skin that contrasted beautifully on incredible pale white. Both eyes were different colors, and the hair was evenly split between white and red. A single horn sprouted from the right side.

There was coldness though. Hitoshi couldn’t read them at all.

“Are you one of my new Keepers?”

Hitoshi shook his head and then tapped his wrist-comm, signaling that the transfer was 10 minutes late for breakfast.

The transfer tilted their head in confusion, revealing faded finger-shaped bruises under their chin, but the chilling sight disappeared as soon as they stood up. Their splotchy-colored hand gripped the hem of their shirt, maybe with anxiety. “An escort?”

Hitoshi nodded, mimed eating, and then beckoned for their new crechemate to follow.

They did, not even locking their room as Hitoshi led them to the cafeteria, the noise of several creches’ chattering washed over him. He turned to see the new transfer’s eyes darting from one huge end of the room to the other. Hitoshi gently took the hand gripping the shirt's hem and led the unusual klaxo-hybrid to the table.

“Oh hey!! The transfer’s here!” Ochako gleefully yelled.

“Yeah!! LET’S EAT!!” Mina cheered. Without even introductions, everyone stood up from the table. The most eager ones stampeded to the cafeteria line, fighting to be first.

Hitoshi gestured towards the line, but the transfer looked at him blankly until he tugged on their hand.

He was having chilling flashbacks to his own first day after spending a week under a microscope for being the first to undergo four transfusions of yellow serum and paired with a Klaxo-hybrid without adverse effects, including death. The scientists had been fascinated, calling him an Immune, and he’d been terrified the entire time thinking they’d find more use for him in a lab instead of letting him pilot.

The hand in his spasmed slightly and then gripped even tighter. Hitoshi blinked at his new crechemate while they waited in line.

“It does that. When I’m feeling strange, it’ll move on its own.”

Hitoshi looked down at the red skin patches over the pale white skin that made his own look peach in comparison. He pointed at the hand, tilting his head.

“Yeah. I have to hold something with it before I use my other hand. I have to keep it occupied.” The tone sounded flat and unaffected, but Hitoshi thought his crechmate looked shy from mentioning it. “It’s a defect in my model.”

Hitoshi’s lips parted feeling a swell of anger at that. He huffed out a breath and pulled him towards the trays. Grabbing one to use for them both, he set it down on the rungs.

“Ah! Hitoshi-kun,” the veiled worker said brightly, “What will you have today, dear?”

He pointed to the eggs, sausage, toast. Then he pointed at his crechmate and pointed again.

“The same for the both of you?”

Hitoshi nodded with a broad grin, while he carefully placed both plates on the broad tray. _Thank you,_ he signed quickly.

“You’re very welcome! I’m glad you’re helping the transfer out!”

“Transfer…?” They said, frowning, but Hitoshi pulled them along, adding an apple to his plate  and an orange to theirs, and grabbed some packets of butter and jam, along with enough eating utensils and napkins for two.

At the end of the run, Hitoshi transferred the hand he’d been holding to the hem of his grey shirt. He held up an ‘ok’ sign with a head tilt. After a long, considering stare at Hitoshi’s hand, he was given a tentative nod.

Hitoshi brought them back to the table, setting down the plate for their new crechemate, positioning them in the empty spot next to Izuku on the corner. He moved the hand to the edge of the table and shot a small, tired smile at the klaxo-hybrid, going around to sit across from Izuku beside Mina.

“Took ya long enough, partner!!” Waiting until he’d seated, Mina whapped his back playfully. With a bright grin, she addressed the one across from her, who had yet to start eating, “Hey! Transfer, what’s your name?”

This caused most of the horsing around at the table to settle down to listen in, even Katsuki’s interest was betrayed by the way he had turned his good ear towards the newbie after a loud ‘tch’.

“.... N-J-T. C-H-1-M. 0-0-4,” came the emotionless recitation.

“Ah.. N-not your full code series. Your nickname,” Izuku said, scratching his scalp.”What did the other pilot candidates call you in your creche?”

“004?”

“Hey. Are you an idiot?” Katsuki’s eyes narrowed meanly.

“I am male,” came the succinct reply.

Tenya chopped Katsuki’s head again, but the blond managed to duck and slide to the side, avoiding the worst of it, and threw faces up at him.

“Sorry about that. Katsuki is always this rude. Don’t listen to him,” Tenya said as he turned his attention to the transfer. “Welcome to Creche 1A! Did Sensei forget to tell you about breakfast in the cafeteria? We always eat at 0700 so that gives us a chance to socialize and get ready before class at 0830.”

“...Sensei told me. I misunderstood him.”

“What the hell’s there to misunder—Ow!! What the hell, Eiji?!”

“This is why Sensei says you need to work on your communication skills,” the sharp-toothed Stamen said. “You can’t meet every situation head-on, Kacchan.”

The Pistil grumbled and crossed his arms.

“To answer your query, I’ve never had breakfast before. I did not realize it was a word for eating, Kacchan.”

“EHHHH?!” Katsuki would’ve vaulted across the table if not for Tenya and Eijirou grabbing him to stay put. “SAY THAT TO MY FACE, HALF-N-HALF!”

Several confused looks were exchanged, but not at Katsuki’s anger from the cutesy nickname he only tolerated from his Stamen and also, surprisingly, Izuku. They were wondering where the transfer was from.

“It’s not quite that… it’s _when_ you eat too,” Momo said, pulling up a chair at the end of the table. “In fact, breakfast is when you eat a meal in the morning.”

This information seemed to be profound for their new crechemate. His eyes didn’t lose the faint confusion. “Query?”

Momo nodded, while the others exchanged whispers in the noisy cafeteria.

“...What is morning?”

Pandemonium erupted among them as they all yelled, throwing out their own distressed and puzzled questions and statements. Some (Denki, Mina, and Eijirou) were giggling because it had to be a poor attempt at a joke.

How could someone be so ignorant?

Hitoshi knew how.

He turned to 004, parted his lips, and cleared his throat. The table quieted, which made it even harder for him to work up his voice. Mina squeezed his arm, all encouragement.

His voice was gravelly and shaky from ill use, “H-have you b-been o-outsi-ide?”

“We are outside.”

Momo held up a hand to stay the new cresting wave of loud questions. Frowns and furrowed brows lined the faces of the students at the table. Izuku looked ill. Perhaps he understood better than most, having been under observation the longest among them.

She asked gently, “Outside of what?”

“Our holding cells.” 004 didn’t even know any better than to say that. The hand he had referred to, as if it belonged to someone else, crawled up the table and began to push everything away from himself. He quickly picked up the orange and gave it to that hand, which it accepted in a white-knuckled grip.

“Do you know what 0700 or 0830 is?”

“Possible local coordinates.”

“It’s _time_ ,” Ochako piped up, sounding extremely concerned.

“....Like timed runs?” Under the combine gaze of thirteen others, 004’s voice had grown softer, less sure.

“Here,” Kyouka shoved her wrist-comm towards him, tapping the holographic display to expand. It showed ‘0745’ while the seconds ticked away.

“Query.”

“Yes?” Izuku prompted.

“...What is my purpose here?”

Taken aback at the question, Izuku blinked owlishly, mouth working but nothing came out.

“The same as the rest of us, _ribbit_. To pilot a FRANXX.”

“..But I am a defective model. I cannot pilot a FRANXX.”

“You’re in luck!!” Denki said, grabbing Izuku by the shoulder, “This guy can! He just needs a co-pilot. You up to that?”

“Affirmative.”

The beaming smile on Izuku’s face nearly blinded Hitoshi. He had to force his gaze downwards, unable to look his way any longer.

* * *

Thoughts consumed with that vexing Stamen, Toshi was more than willing to accept light duty; no piloting until tomorrow, as long as he was allowed to be with Shouta. His body ached for more of that one’s touch, over and over again. He couldn’t dispel that craving from the tenacious grip on his mind ever since he’d been teased with that soft mouth around him.

Thanking Nurse Inko for her care, Toshi took a brisk walk out of his medical suites and made a beeline for his rooms near the FRANXX simulator room.

When he entered, he took a long bracing inhale of the humid, earthiness surrounding him and the faint smell of Shouta that lingered after his sexual awakening under those confident hands under the magma lamps.

His body shivered from the memory, phallus squirming against the confines of the spare uniform they’d given him, having drawn the line at walking out in a medical gown.

He took in a deeper inhale. It was close to noontime meal, but he didn’t smell even a whiff of the morning meal. He frowned at the faint coffee accents in the air. He headed straight to the dining area to order up something filling. He brought the resulting bowl of thick, meaty soup and potatoes to Shouta’s room, and knocked once. No answer.

He knocked again.

“Go away. I’m busy.”

Toshi opened the door anyway to see a tired, cranky face glare up at him from the PADD display that Shouta was hunched over. The nubs on his forehead had sprouted into short, sharply-edged crimson horns.

Toshi’s cock slithered a bit before he managed to get it to settle down. “I brought food.”

“Don’t want it. Bring coffee.” The grumpy pilot turned back to the bright screen.

Toshi clicked on the light and Shouta ducked his head down, wincing. “You need to eat. Coffee is not an appropriate substitute.”

“I have twenty-four hours to acclimate myself to fourteen students.” Despite his foul mood, he did accept the bowl of stew and began voraciously eating.

That was news to Toshi. “Oh, you’ll be teaching?”

“Us. You and me will be teaching.”

“I… wasn’t informed of this.” Toshi leaned unobtrusively over him taking a cautious whiff. Shouta definitely needed a bath, yet he still smelled enticing to him. “When’s the last time you cleaned up?”

Shouta sighed, leaning back in his chair to scratch his chin. “Before the piloting test.”

“...How much sleep have you gotten between then and now?”

“I lost track.”

“Guess.”

“.... Two hours?”

“Up.”

A playful smirk slipped on his lips, eyes lingering on Toshi’s crotch. “Are we sharing the shower?”

“ _UP,_ ” Toshi demanded, pushing the rolling chair towards the door. “Wipe that look off your face! We can be _sexual_ after we’re both clean!”

Shouta hopped to his feet as if the words had physically struck him, looking much more awake. “I’ll hold you to that,” he purred, outstretched fingers tracing over the curve of Toshi’s ear as he passed by on tiptoes.

Toshi straightened and blushed furiously, cupping that ear, his member thrashing within their confines.

His Stamen simply smirked, swaggering out.

* * *

Both freshly showered, Shouta looked down his Pistil’s naked body, flush with excitement on his bed. There were intricate whorls and scaly patterning drawn on the skin—Were they past scars?—the massive flower-shaped one on his left side, dwarfing all others, of a faded blue.

Lower his eyes went, tracing along the sinuous path to his groin.

Covering his mouth, Toshi made another noise filled with neediness and opened his legs. He was so flustered by his own boldness he turned his face away.

“Please suck me?”

“I could…” Shouta murmured, a hand sliding forward to cup the underside of his lover’s bulbous shaft, his foreskin actually consisting of flared-tipped tentacles sprouting from the base. He enjoyed how much the other writhed from the smallest of touches. “So receptive…”

“Nnn, that’s not…” Toshi gasped, head falling back as his hips thrust into the hand which had suddenly squeezed and rubbed him with a circled fist.

“Not?” Shouta prompted with a tiny smile, but before he could respond Shouta pumped him again.

“Oh! _OH_!!” Toshi cried bucking, his entire frame tensing for a second before he let out a sharp gasp, body jerking, once, twice, three times. Then a low moan rose from the back of his throat, and he flopped back.

Shouta’s hand was covered in the clear substance oozing out of his Pistil and more was seeping out. He could feel Toshi’s heartbeat under his palm; he very lightly thumbed the underside.

Toshi jerked up with a cry, but there was nothing more as the hand pulled away. Overcome with some emotion, Toshi closed his eyes and whined, while a quiet Shouta climbed onto the bed between his legs. “Shouta. You promised that once I was healed…”

He licked against the rigid, slick foreskin, tasting of earth and Toshi. It fluttered open like the ripening of a flower, sped up; his moaning lover bucked towards Shouta’s mouth in surprise.

Placing a hand at each hip to keep him from bucking too hard, Shouta parted his soft lips and took the swollen, central phallus dotted with rounded protuberances, revealed when the foreskin pulled away, into his mouth. An ardent encouraging shout followed that action, and Shouta pushed down on those bony hips to counter the instinctive thrust. He licked the longer-than-expected, horizontal slit, shoving Toshi’s legs down with his elbows when the other tried to wrap them around his head. Not yet.

With the foreskin now having peeled back halfway down Toshi’s cock, Shouta opened his jaw more to slip the dripping, squishy bulb inside. His tongue was probing the slit, when it suddenly opened like a valve with a flood of fluid. He choked, coughing, and sat back, aroused beyond belief, tasting the expected savory saltiness but now with an undertone of citrus he'd probably be smelling for weeks. He took a moment to wipe his face with an arm and catch his breath, dimly aware that Toshi had also sat up, hands rubbing his upper back. “Shouta, you okay?”

With a hungry look, Shouta pulled those hands off of him and pressed his Pistil down, grasping the root of Toshi’s carnality. “I want to try something,” he said with a bland tone while the klaxo-hybrid squirmed and pant-whined. “May I?”

“Y-yes! Anything!”

Lips pulling into a pleased smirk, Shouta teased the slit of Toshi’s thick phallus with a finger. Like before, the muscles seemed to wink open, and he slid that finger inside to great effect on the other pilot.

Toshi bucked so hard, he almost chinned Shouta’s skull, and slammed back into the bed so hard that his longest horns actually ripped into the sheets.

The more Shouta wiggled the finger, the more senseless Toshi became—mouth wide and eyes blown and unseeing—and the more relaxed the opening was. He slid another finger inside easily, and his love seemed to lose all control of his body. The larger man flailed against the covers, the telltale sign of his horns wreaking destruction on Shouta’s mattress a sure thing.

Shouta pushed the two in until the knuckles were practically inside.

Eyes wide open and wild, Toshi stilled some, mewling as his hands grasped towards Shouta.

“I want to try fucking you. Here.” The Stamen wiggled his fingers in the tight space, feeling it stretch farther. He could probably try his whole hand if he wasn’t so eager to dick him down.

Long blue fingers wrapped around his wrist. Apparently to get his attention because Toshi had lifted his drooling face to meet his eyes and nod, a guttural noise of approval escaping him.

Shouta didn’t know if his love was quite sure what he was saying ‘yes’ to. He slowly removed his fingers, gathered up his rock-hard cock, and lined it up with the slit. “If this hurts or you want me to stop, say so, shake your head, or push me away,” he told Toshi. His balls were so full he could probably cum just by imagining the thought of doing this, but he held himself back.

He coaxed two fingers in again and then slowly pulled the stretchy slit open. Toshi was like a furnace under him, but held himself still as he bit into an azure palm. With his remaining fingers he eased his cock under them, now supporting Toshi’s phallus with his freed hand. He pushed in, feeling the head of his cock slipping through the resistance with a popping sensation. In that moment Toshi screamed out.

Stunned and worried, Shouta stopped immediately, but before he could do anything else he was slammed onto his back with Toshi looming over him. They were still connected by their dicks; in fact, it felt like Toshi’s dick was trying to swallow his own, inch by inch, like a snake eating a snack. Eyes wide, Shouta tried to catch his breath, his bucking stopped by firm hands on his hip bones.

Their short horns were pressed together with a rasping noise. Shouta wasn’t sure how or when Toshi had wormed Shouta’s hands free to pin them above his head, but he couldn’t think straight with Toshi’s fingers steadily caressing his hips like that.

He frowned a bit, wondering how the hell his arms are pinned if Toshi was holding him still, so he tried to pull back to look up, but his head was forced to remain where it was with a twist of those horns against his own. Shouta really thought their horns might be locked together, but now— _oh, ohhhhh._

Circular, tight muscles rippled around his hard length sensually when Toshi’s cock had an easier time engulfing the length of Shouta’s once it was past the fat head. Eyes locked with Toshi’s burning azure gaze, Shouta cried out, his entire body shaking as the sleeve of Toshi’s cock muscles vibrated and massaged against him. Wanting to touch back, Shouta tried to twist out of the hold on his arms, but it won’t budge.

The multiple rings of muscles spasmed around him, pulling slickly up, and he moaned, feeling the pleasure rush down his legs in sharp bursts. Slick was dripping down his length and slipping onto his thighs and stomach; his sac pulling up was the last warning he had before...

He was losing.

Control.

“I’m. I’m gonna..hahh..  I’ll come... if you’n… ah AH HHHH. AHHHH!!!!”

Mere centimeters from his face with hot breath coursing across his cheeks, glowing blue eyes watched with delight as Shouta came undone.

Ecstasy crashed through him in several waves, pulsing from the tips of his toes and out through his dick, while his body thrashed under the firm hold on him. Moments later, he still gasped for air as Toshi finally unpinned his arms and slid to the side of him, that versatile member of his slipping off Shouta’s with a slick ‘slurp’.

There wasn’t a trace of cum anywhere. Shouta would wonder more about that if he wasn’t a sweaty, boneless heap on the bed.

Toshi was the opposite, energized by the act instead of sucked dry, and hopped up. “I’m going to take a quick shower and grab a rag for you. Okay?”

Shouta grunted because his brain was still processing what the hell had just happened, dick twitching once at the remembered feel of the inexorable throbbing, pulling slide around him.

He covered his face with a splayed palm, horns fitting between his fingers.

He wanted to do it again, as soon as possible, but there were many more positions he wanted to try with that man.

Before Toshi came back, he was out like a lamp.

He was woken by gentle swipes of a wet cloth and blinked blearily up at the tall, lithe form over him. “Hrhm?”

“Sorry. I’m trying to be careful. You can go back to sleep.” Toshi stroked his hair softly and then went back to wiping him down.

Shouta rubbed at his face from the nose down and then sat up glad Toshi was leaning over him perpendicularly to him. Those long horns of his were extremely… sharp…

Rubbing at his eyes, Shouta blinked again and stared at the extra set of horns that had seemed to sprout overnight on the top of Toshi’s head, thick and folded in on itself with glowing lines showing clear segmented sections. His hair poofed up around it making the thick, black horns look like a deliberate hair ornament.

“Uh,” his Pistil asked, “Is something wrong?”

“Have you looked in a mirror recently?”

Toshi shook his head the end of one of those new horns twitching slightly.

Lifting a hand, Shouta asked, “May I?”

The other pilot leaned forward, and Shouta ran careful fingers along on smoothly, segmented—

Laughter burst from Toshi as his hands flew up protectively to his head, “That tickl—!! What…?” he sucked in a breath and dropped the cloth, which flopped to the ground, rushing to the nearest reflective surface. Hunching to look at himself, he spent several moments staring and touching them.

After several minutes of this, Shouta decided it would be best to distract him. “Hey, may I have some advice?”

“Huh, oh. If. Ah, you think it would be helpful?” He shyly dropped his hands attempting to make himself smaller now.

Shouta, still completely naked and not giving a damn, plopped into his chair and woke up his PADD. He opened the file with the lesson plan. “I was going to start with a clip from our test of the _Heliotrope_ , from the boot-up sequence to halfway through the drills. Have them discuss the differences between Pistil and Stamen positions and then run them through the basics to see where they’re at, including an update on their sync rates.”

“That sounds good so far?” His love sat on the bed, peering easily over his shoulder. “What’s the problem?”

“I want to test for ambi-pilots, but simply having them switch positions with their partner won’t work without them giving their best effort.”

“What about a combination of a partner swap and a motivator…? I know in my creche there was a reward system for best sync rates.”

Hand snapping out to catch Toshi’s before he touched those new horns again, Shouta kissed his knuckles smiled up at him. “I was thinking along similar lines. Thanks for your input.”

Toshi blushed.

Holding onto the hand, Shouta turned back to his PADD turning it off. Rolling towards the other pilot until their knees touched, Shouta smirked and tilted his head back. “I’m hard again, if you think you’re up for anything.” He peered hungrily at the other pilot, whose face blushed purple.

“I-I, er. I’m a little sore so. I mean, I would love to touch you again and you smell _really_ good but I can’t—” A squeak emitted from those lips as Shouta placed that blue-hand on his dick leaking precome.

“Go ahead and smell me as much as you want. But I’ll get muskier if you rub me off.” He leered, watching raptly as the tightly folded black horns uncurled at Toshi’s obvious interest and extended like two long appendages.

Noticing that his attention was elsewhere, Toshi frowned a little. “Is… is something…? Oh! The cloth—”

“You're beautiful,” Shouta breathed out leaning in for a deep kiss which Toshi eagerly met, albeit clumsily.

Needless to say, the Stamen didn’t get any more work done that day.


End file.
